Unknown
by ecinis
Summary: HPSS Mentor/Guardian Fic. Slytherin!Harry Younger!Snape Snape gathers a critical and sarcastic Harry from the Dursley's and introduces him to the magical world. HIATUS See Profile
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and Co. Any unrecognizable material is claimed by me.

**Prologue**

"Headmaster – you can't. I've been watching them all day. They're the worst sort of muggles imaginable. Can't you find a nice wizarding home where he can grow up with people that adore him?"

"Minerva, it is better for him to grow up away from all that. The wards are held in place by the blood shared between Harry and his aunt. I simply won't allow him to be harmed." Blue eyes twinkled sternly over half moon glasses.

"You-Know-Who is gone, Albus. He would be much safer at Hogwarts or –"

The headmaster cut her off, "_Voldemort_ is not truly gone, Minerva. He has undergone so many rituals that he is not fully human anymore; he cannot be destroyed so easily."

Minerva was at a loss. Her sternly pinned-up hair was slightly frazzled. She glanced at Number 4, Privet Drive again. "You _can't_, Albus. They're absolutely horrible."

"I will, Minerva. Arabella is not far away if he is ever in need." He started walking, shifting a small bundle in his arms. Minerva looked desperately at the child in the headmaster's arms before sighing and silently conceding.

The stars danced quietly against the inky black sky as Harry Potter was set down carefully onto the front doorstep of his relatives' house. Dumbledore gazed at him silently before pulling an addressed envelope from his robes and placing it carefully inside Harry's basket.

"Come, Minerva. There will be celebrations tomorrow and we need our rest." He hurried her along, coming to stop at the shadowed corner of the street. They winked out of existence after one final look at the new home of the wizarding world's savior.

* * *

"Boy! Get down here and get your lunch!"

From somewhere upstairs, a quiet voice answered the call. A small, lithe body came bolting down the stairs, skidding to a halt at their end and moving at a much more sedate pace towards the dining room. The door swung open with a light tap and he wandered into the room. Its sole occupant, a rather bony, long-faced woman, beckoned him over. She shoved a bag roughly into his hands and turned him about.

He wore a loose set of clothes; obviously not his own. Dark emerald eyes were set onto a delicately slender face under thick lashes and thin eyebrows. A small nose and a pair of cupid's-bow lips added to his femininity. Dark locks framed his face, tapering down to his mid-back in smooth, but messy, waves.

"It will have to do. Now, boy, I expect you back here straight after school, no hanging about today." The boy was staring out the window, one hand tightly clenching his small lunch, the other absently stroking the cover of a worn book. "Boy? Harry!" Eyes snapped up to meet her own. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"Get to school. And keep out of Dudley's way."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry left, grabbing the black pack by the door.

* * *

Harry lay curled beneath a spreading oak tree, book open, pages flicking by rapidly as he read. It was lunch time, the other children raced by, ignoring him as they fooled about. He dutifully remained away from Dudley and his gang, gathering his things quickly and retreating into the school as they made their way over to him.

It was the second to last day of school. A long awaited day in Harry's opinion; his peers were too, well, childish, to carry on an intriguing conversation. Sure, he was very quiet as it was, tending to stay out of view and mind, but some social interaction was pleasant. Although, the only ones able of following his train of thought were far older than him and could care less about the ideas of a child less than half their age. The only worthwhile conversationalists for him in school were the librarian and his science teacher. And of course, occupational expectation and decorum held them from speaking to any student with equality. Very few could hold intelligent arguments nowadays.

Such is life.

* * *

A/N: Well... the plot bunny bit me... in the thigh actually. It's quite a large wound. Any suggestions would be helpful... I haven't actually got a plot for thie yet... but we'll see what happens. Oh! And any ideas for TBB would be great because I lost any ounce of inspiration I had for it.

Leave a review! Thanks!


	2. Chapter One

**_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Harry Potter. Anything you do not recognize is my own. This is disclaimer will apply for the continuation of this fic._**

_**-Sinful Ice**_

**Chapter One**

"Boy! You better get down here and make breakfast! My poor Dudders is absolutely starving!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia!" Footsteps danced down the stairs lightly, but quickly, their owner intent on not angering the leader of the household. Aunt Petunia was waiting by the entrance to the dining room. She smiled a small, apologetic smile before hurrying him onward and pointing him towards the stove, slipping into the mask of disgust she always wore around his uncle.

"That boy doing everything right, Petunia? I don't want him messing up our lives more than he already has." A large man from behind a newspaper lowered the edge so his beady eyes could watch the boy clearly. They glittered with undisguised annoyance and disgust. "And why isn't his hair fixed."

Mentally, Harry rolled his eyes and jabbed the frying bacon a little harder than necessary.

"Everything is as good as we can expect it to be with one of his kind around, Vernon." She bustled to the table, setting down plates. "And his hair would grow back just like last time. I don't want to see any more of his abnormalities. And it covers that hideous scar, Vernon."

Vernon grunted and adjusted his newspaper with a crisp crackle. "It is hideous, isn't it?" He said nonchalantly. Aunt Petunia hummed and brushed Harry's shoulder on the way to get glasses. He relaxed slightly.

* * *

The sound of letters sliding in through the mail slot was heard easily above the quietness surrounding the breakfast table. "Letters here? Go and get the letters Dudley, we can see if your Smeltings letter came yet."

Dudley, whose eyes were glued to the telly, waved a pudgy hand and muttered, "Tell Harry to get it."

"Boy." Uncle Vernon looked at him expectantly and, with a sigh, Harry pushed himself from the table and walked out of the room.

* * *

Harry picked up the mail, absentmindedly shuffling through them. A bill, a postcard from 'Aunt' Marge, and a letter for _him_.

It was made of thick, parchment-like material. He ran his hands over the smooth texture, caressing the emerald ink of his name on the front. Flipping it over to the back, he studied the wax crest with interest. It didn't look any medieval crests he had seen before.

"Boy!"

Harry stuffed the letter into this pocket, securing it and dashing towards the table. He set the letters down in front of his uncle and began to eat with his eyes lowered. He didn't want them to see the hope shining in them.

* * *

Locked away in Dudley's second bedroom, Harry carefully slit the letter, eyes shining with excitement.

No one ever sent him letters. They didn't have a reason to. He made sure the librarian always got her books back. And he hadn't done anything remarkable in school. Not that his teachers would notice – they were far too busy ignoring him after his uncle's warning. Oh yes, ignore the smartest child in your class. Ignore him when he raises his hand to correct you because you made a false and bias statement. After all, it's a feeder school for all those private institutes. Maybe we can make this batch of students turn out like the rest; safely brainwashed and placed in society where they can't make a difference!

Incompetent fools. The lot of them.

When he finally unfolded the letter and skimmed its contents, arching a thin eyebrow.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc.,Chf. Warlock, _

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Due to your special circumstance, we will be sending one of our professors to gather you on July 26th so that you may purchase your supplies._

_Term begins on September 1st. We will await your acceptance by no later than July 31st._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Whoever sent this must think I'm either very stupid or a child that ignores the reality and holds onto false hopes.

He set the letter carelessly onto his desk and fell onto his bed.

…

Although... the seal did look very genuine. And the parchment and text had the tell-tale traces of being written with something that required the repetition of gathering more ink. Some letters held a larger blot on their beginnings than others. It seemed formal enough as well.

He would only need to wait until the 26th to find out whether or not it was a prank. If not, he would go from there.

* * *

July 26th appeared very slowly after a long and anxious wait. Harry knew it would most likely turn out to be a prank of one of the older children, but he couldn't help but wonder. No one would put that much work into a letter. Just trying to find parchment, quills, and ink must be a day in and of itself. Although, a fine tip pen might be able to manufacture something along the lines of the formal letter he held in his hands.

He was overanalyzing wasn't he?

Harry dressed with a sigh and wandered down the stairs. Aunt Petunia was slowly moving about, sipping at tea and staring out the small window. Her eyes flickered at him and she nodded a morning to him. Harry nodded back wand wandered over to the stove, intent on cooking breakfast before the appropriate time a visitor would show themselves. If they did, of course.

As it was nearing 9 o'clock the doorbell rang and Harry, though appearing calm and emotionless, practically danced towards the door. His relatives didn't so much as blink.

Opening the door with an almost breathless attitude, Harry stared up at the imposing figure before him. Well, more creepy than imposing, but he did have that sort of air around him.

The man was tall. Cloaked heavily in black, a small crest on the cloak pin against the right shoulder, he looked like a nobleman from the earlier days. He had greasy coils of hair, the same dark raven as Harry's own. His nose, though large and crooked, fit him somehow and Harry briefly wondered if he perhaps had any Italian relations; it seemed to lean towards something akin to that origin. His eyes were black, pure and simple. Probably a very dark cocoa if one could study them closer, but there was no doubt that he would be removed very quickly if he were to try. The man glared down at him.

Harry glared back. Did this man think he would back down to the obvious challenge? His intelligence could easily match the person before him, and if he was like any other adult Harry had recently encountered, he could easily excel in a mental war.

The man scowled at him and with an aloof tone questioned, "This is the Dursley residence?" At Harry's stiff nod he continued, "I'm Professor Severus Snape from Hogwarts. Please fetch your parents for me; I need to speak to them about Mr. Potter."

"You can speak to Mr. Potter about Mr. Potter." The man stared at him expectantly and Harry realized, disgusted, that the man thought he was the offspring of his relatives. Harry stared up at him. "Well, speak."

For Severus Snape, the mental math was easy and he stared at Harry oddly, wondering how a child that looked so much like Slytherin himself could possibly be related to someone as pure Gryffindor as James Potter. An odd smirk appeared on his lips. James Potter's son a Slytherin.

The professor gave a little smirk and shook his hair, tilting his head and looking down on Harry. "Well, Mr. Potter. I can tell already that you take after your father; he, too, was exceedingly arrogant to his betters."

Harry noticed the pose, as well as all three insults, and gave a small sneer. "If you wouldn't mind, _sir_, I suggest that we leave and gather my school supplies."

Ignoring the polite rules that had been drilled into him as a child, Snape pushed past the boy without being invited and called back over his shoulder, "It would do well if I were to inform your guardians that I would be taking their precious Harry Potter."

When Snape brushed past him, Harry crushed his anger and followed the man. He spilled into the kitchen behind Snape, pooling into the background. Snape cleared his throat and sneered when the fat muggle raised his head. His look of impatience quickly turned to badly masked fear when his eyes met those of the wizard before him. "Another freak." He muttered to himself, though Snape heard his words. "Finally come to get rid of him?"

Snape glanced at Harry, taking note of the indifferent look, like it was an everyday insult, not given much of a thought. "I've come to tell you that I'll be taking Mr. Potter to acquire his school supplies for the upcoming term. I'll return him to you in due time." He pivoted and stepped out of the room as the final syllable left his lips. However, as the door began to swing shut, he heard the muggle's voice.

"Follow your freak friend boy. And make sure you take the back way. I don't want the neighbors thinking I tolerate freaks like you."

A/N: Well, there you go... Snape is about 19-ish in this story. Reasons will be explained later. Please review. Comments, constructive criticism, ads for your own fic with a little side not to me... I'm working on the third chapter currently... so -come on guys! Can I try for 15 reviews? Yes, no? (probably not....)


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"Come here, Potter. Let us hurry up and end this quickly." The Professor glowered at him and harshly grabbed his hand, forcing it onto a sock that he had brought from his pocket only moments earlier. More to himself than his companion, he muttered, "The things I do for that insufferable old man."

The sour man whispered a word and Harry felt a jerk behind his navel. The backyard garden disappeared in a swirl of color.

* * *

"What was that?" Harry gasped. He had managed to land safely on his feet, but immediately bent over, the urge to vomit quite strong. His stomach rolled dangerously as he attempted to straighten. 

The man above him, cool and collected, muttered something vaguely similar to 'pathetic', before turning away. "That was a portkey, Potter. A magical device used to transport those who are incapable of apparating. You can find it in a book; hopefully you can understand with your limited vocabulary, for I will not waste my valuable time explaining it."

Harry glared at the man's back. Muttering about the similarities of adults, no matter what the breed, he looked away and glanced about the dusty tavern. A hunched man tended at the counter and nodded in the professor's direction before moving to serve a rather intoxicated man. Harry watched, interested, as with a wave of a small stick – a wand, he assumed – the drinks uncorked and whisked themselves away to the customers. The dark atmosphere of the pub lent a hand to the factions of people Harry found suspicious as they muttered guardedly in the corners.

"What is this place? Some sort of tavern, for the magical population that you assure me exists?"

The Professor looked down his nose at him. "Yes, it is you petulant child. The _Leaky Cauldron_, the gateway between Muggle London and Diagon Alley. A pub where both sorts can mingle safely; a neutral zone, if you will."

Harry looked at him doubtfully, but followed as the man beckoned him towards a door in the back.

Truthfully, Harry had expected much more when the Professor swung open the door with flair. And old trash can, a few weeds, and a dirty brick wall met his view. Although many children would have bee severely disappointed, Harry found himself wondering whether it was merely an illusion set in place to confuse – as he had seen often in 'Muggle' fantasy books – or whether the whole thing was counterfeit. He was sure that, though it was unlikely, some of the 'magic' he had seen could be forged through clever trickery.

Severus watched the boy's face carefully, noticing the calculating look he often saw in some of his best Slytherins. Deciding to continue, he unsheathed his wand and, holding it delicately, he tapped the bricks in succession.

The bricks unfolded and restacked themselves, moving in a way that was sure to convince the unsure child. From the corner of his eye, Severus watched closely as a look of awe passed over the boy's face. The boy looked to him, caught his gaze, and wiped his face blank. "Diagon Alley." The boy merely sniffed at him.

"I was able to gather as much on my own. Pardon me." Harry stepped by him and through the gate, analyzing his surroundings. To his right, a few witches were chatting over the sale of newt's eye. Harry raised an eyebrow as one witch sifted through an extremely large barrel and shook off the eyes that clung to her as she removed it. The cauldron shop to his left was advertising a new 'un-leakable' coating.

The professor pushed in front of him and stalked off, calling behind him, "Do try to keep up, won't you? It would be a shame to lose an _intelligent _person such as yourself."

Harry stalked behind the professor, mockingly imitating the stalk his companion was currently executing. It was amusing to see the man glance back at him and sneer.

Their first stop – on their hopefully short excursion – was a tall building, story, piled upon story, in a crooked meandering manner that defied the laws of physics. Harry stared at it for a short while, mostly to annoy his waiting escort, before stalking up to the professor and motioning him onward in an almost dismissive way.

After stalking up to an open desk, Severus slammed a key down – pulled from some hidden pocket – and narrowed his eyes at the creature before him. "I would like to make a withdrawal from Vault 687, if you would hurry. And a letter from the Headmaster to gather a certain item in Vault 713." It inspected the key and carefully read the letter before turning to motion a passing creature of the same kind.

Harry thought quickly before poking the older man. The man jerked around and hissed at him, "What?"

"What type of creature is that?"

"A goblin." Severus followed behind the goblin, Klutch, and brushed the portion of his robes that the Potter boy had touched. He gave one more look at Harry, sniffed, and then ignored him for the entire journey down to Vault 687.

* * *

"Key, please?" The goblin held out a hand. 

With an annoyed look, Severus handed over the key and waited for the door to swing open. As it did, he shoved a bag into Harry's hands, pushed him forward and muttered, "Get your money."

Harry stared at the piles before him. With a glance at the impatient man behind him, he carefully began to pick the coins up – mostly the gold ones – one by one, dropping them into his bag, enjoying the flinch every time they tapped each other. When the professor began to tap his foot, he gathered them slightly faster. When a growl reverberated against the walls, he shoveled a few more in, tied the bag off, and scrambled back into the cart.

It took off again quickly, halting only seconds later before a large door. The goblin stepped out, dragged a finger down its middle, and stepped aside motioning to the professor. Harry stared oddly at the small paper bag on the inside and thought that although it looked unimportant, he had always heard that the best things come in small packages.

* * *

"Let us finish this quickly and return you to your relatives, or I will be forced to put myself out of my misery." 

Harry turned large, green eyes on Severus. "You would die for me?"

"No. I would kill you; effectively ending any misery that you may cause me now or anytime in the future." With that, he swept off towards a store titled _Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_.

The younger man sighed and followed his companion. The store, decorated simply and covered in ads for slimming and self-ironing robes, was quite empty.

"Oh, hello Professor Snape!" The man cringed and faced the stylishly dressed women who had just emerged from among the racks of clothing. "Come to purchase something colorful for a change, perhaps? I have the loveliest Slytherin green..."

"No thank you. I'm here to acquire a set of Hogwarts robes for Mr. Potter on a request from the Headmaster." He casually redirected the witch's attention from him.

"Harry Potter? Well, bless me. Come here dear, we'll find something that will fit you just perfectly." She looked over his current outfit. "You didn't have to wear your worst, child."

"Actually, ma'am. This is my best set of clothes." She clucked at him.

And so began the first few hours of his trip with Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts.

* * *

A/N: I was hoping for 15... but 14 will do. XD If anyone wants to contribute an idea, I'll see if I can fit in. Of course, I may not be able to carry out they way you want it or whatever. 

Virginia Riddle-Malfoy: As I said in my author's note the previous chapter, Snape is about 19. How it is possible for him to be able to teach at this age and still know James Potter will be explained at a later date. Quite soon actually (I think).

Serpent of Light: huggles The only one to tend my open and bleeding thigh wound... sniffles

Thanks everybody who reviewed my story.

_I would like to tell a little bit about my fanficcing career and history of my stories in everything. Just random stuff. You don't need to read it though._

**Random History:** This fic is actually originally titled 'Sexxay Harry' (in all caps) because I was bored. It was called this because Mishi sent me a document called 'howdourapejello'. At first I was afraid to open it. When I did, I discovered a very odd set of scenes she had written. One about my SDSK story, the other about her, Draco, Harry and having wild sex. Obviously, I have managed to escape with only slight scarring. If anyone saw Falan's comment about Dudley telling Harry to get the mail and 'notthat way', I just tend to exchange 'male' with 'mail' when speaking about any of my favorite HP characters...

P.S. This chapter was edited as of 1/30/05.


	4. Chapter Three

**_Disclaimer:See Chapter One._**

**Unknown - Sinful Ice**

**Chapter Three**

Harry pocketed the shrunken bags containing his purchases and hurried after the rapidly disappearing professor. The moment Harry had stepped off the platform, Snape had stalked away, briefly telling Harry 'he would make sure his day was not a complete and utter waste and would be at the Apothecary, gathering supplies for the upcoming school year'.

And Harry found himself standing in the middle of Diagon Alley with a wardrobe in his pocket – amusing, yes – and a list of school supplies in his hand. Deciding that he should stay somewhat in the relative area in which his companion abandoned him, he moved one store down and entered into _Flourish Blott's_.

Some books were arranged neatly in displays, while others towered in stacks. He let his hand graze along the spines on the bookshelves, moving away to pass a bystander. Harry breathed in the smell of books deeply before glancing down at his list.

_The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1_ by Miranda Goshawk

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshott

_Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

Finding his way easily through the aisles, Harry quickly gathered all the required books, adding a few more on. Texts on the properties, theories, and methods of potions were added, as well as a few defense books that caught his eye. And a book on Transfiguration. Plus a Theory book that explained most of the spells he found in _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 2_ that he picked up. He left the store with his money pouch considerably lighter than when he first entered.

* * *

As he stepped through the door, he was immediately blocked. He murmured an apology politely and moved to step around the form. An arm blocked him. Harry looked upward and mentally cringed when he saw his enraged partner before him. In reality, he smirked and cheerfully crowed, "Miss me?" 

Snape glowered at him and ignored his comment, answering with a brisk, "I took the liberty of gathering your ingredients and supplies at the Apothecary. I am expecting a full reimbursement." He stalked off down the street – Harry yet again mocked his movement exceedingly well – and entered into a small shop with a single wand on a faded cushion in the display window. _Ollivanders_, the sign read.

A bell jingled somewhere in the back of the shop, singling its owner of their arrival. Harry looked around the dusty shop, eyes traveling over the rows of slim boxes casually.

"I've been expecting you, Mr. Potter." Both Harry and Snape twitched in surprise at the whispery voice. "And Professor Snape; yew, dragon's heartstring, twelve inches, quite rigid? A fine wand." His attention refocused on the small form of Harry. "You have your mother's eyes, Mr. Potter. Quite an astounding young woman she was. Ten-and-a-quarter-inches, made of willow – a wand excellent for charm work. Your father favored his wand, eleven inches, mahogany. Pliable; perfect for transfiguration." He walked closer to Harry and reached a thin, pale finger up to lightly graze the famous scar. His silvery eyes traced over it. "I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that gave you your scar, Mr. Potter. Thirteen-and-a-half-inches, yew. A very powerful wand, indeed. Set in the wrong hands. If only I had known, Mr. Potter..."

Snape made a noise of impatience.

Ollivander's eyes snapped upwards – for which Harry was eternally glad, as the unblinking gaze was more than a bit unnerving. Clearing his throat, he brought out a tape measure. "I can see that your escort is eager to be on his way... Which is your wand arm, Mr. Potter?"

Harry glanced at either arm and answered, "I'm ambidextrous."

"Your dominant arm then."

He held out his right arm and the tape measure began to work on its own, its owner shuffling through boxes on the endless amounts of shelves. Ollivander kept up a running commentary of the history of wand-making while he continued to disappear as he rushed about the shop. He placed them into Harry's hand, snatching them back quickly when the slightest movement did not bring a response.

"Very difficult, I see."

The professor had long ago positioned himself on a stool and was watching the proceedings with very little interest. As he readjusted himself again, and made to leave the shop in search of a much more stimulating activity, Ollivander cried out in happiness.

He turned to see silver and dark crimson sparks swirling around his companion. Ollivander carefully took the wand from the boy and placed it back into its package. "A very powerful wand, Mr. Potter. It is curious that you would attain this wand, however. Very Curious."

Harry vocalized the same thought that crossed the professor's mind. "Why is it curious? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

Ollivander looked into Harry's eyes and let his eyes flicker over the famous scar. "The phoenix that donated its tail feather for your wand gave one other. Very rare, for no two wands are ever almost the same, they are each unique. And that other wand, the brother wand of yours, was the one to give you that scar." He stared at Harry seriously before giving a small smile. "I think that we can all expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, but great." He finished in a whisper.

Harry smiled unsurely and cleared his throat, pulling out his money bag at the same time. "How much do I owe you?"

* * *

The two males walked down the street, the shorter a step behind the other. He cleared his throat and poked at the taller man, enjoying the contact and the sharp jolt he was rewarded with. "What?" The professor hissed. 

"Who is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

The man sucked in a sharp breath. "He... was a dark wizard. A dark 'lord' to be precise, that went through many transformations through dark magic. He gathered followers, some of them fools who later saw the mistake they had made, others, true supporters in his cause – that muggleborns and half-bloods had no place in wizarding society. Your parents were hidden when the Light found that they were targeted, your mother was muggleborn. They were betrayed and he, Voldemort, came to their house and murdered both of them. Everything was fine for him, until he turned his wand on you and spoke the Killing Curse. It rebounded and destroyed him instead. How, no one knows, but you're famous for it now. The famous Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry had paused in the middle of the street at hearing about his parents' murderer. The professor, noticing he was not following, turned back and gently grabbed his arm, pulling him towards _Magical Menagerie._ "Come, I'll purchase a pet for you. Think of it as a birthday present, but don't expect me to spend money on you anymore."

* * *

When they emerged, Harry was carrying a small wire mesh cage, and a bag of treats and care items that he had to obtain on his own. 

Snape guided him towards the Leaky Cauldron and handed him another portkey when they reached the barrier. "I expect full reimbursement when I next see you."

* * *

A/N: You wouldn't believe it... I actually forgot what chapter I had to post so I kept putting it off... and I have a project due soon... 

History of the fic: This chapter was finished when I just posted chapter one. I changed something for a certain reviewer... something about an animal... **Oh... and I changed something about the last chapter... something important that I can't believe I forgot. **Also, I know the Slytherin!Harry pet thing that I'm doing is sortof... cliche now, but maybe I can twist in a way.. maybe Harry will baby talk to his pet.. (that would be unbelievably odd... especially for a Slytherin). And I already got a name... I think it's an awesome name, others may not agree, but that is not my problem.

Thanks everyone for reviewing. I would reply, but my oatmeal is getting cold.

Purple Artichokes from Mars- no...

Dahlias- yes about the 6th and 7th... but someone might get a little crush... For the bashing, I'm not sure. this just goes with whatever mood I have at the time. If I'm pissed, probably.

_I just ate a bad oat..._


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Platform nine-and-three-quarters was unbelievably crowded when Harry passed through the brick portal. Weaving in and out of the other Hogwarts' students, he managed to find himself near the end of the train, forcing his trunk into the storage area closest to his preferred choice of seating.

When it was safely tucked away he sat onto the padded red seats and opened the wire mesh cage he had been holding all along. Setting one hand before its entrance, he waited patiently for his companion to find its way out.

Long, lustrous, black coils poured onto his hand. Bits of a dark red belly flashed in the light that poured from the windows. The animal raised its head and hissed a greeting. Harry gathered the dark snake into his arms and cuddled it close, allowing it to drape over his neck, arms, and chest. He hissed back a quiet greeting of his own, stroking the head of the reptile.

Curled up in the corner of his compartment, Harry soon fell asleep in the sun, basking like the snake he held.

* * *

Harry awoke some time later, content to stroke the dark scales of his pet and stare out the window at the passing countryside. He adjusted himself very little, choosing instead to mull over the events that resulted from the letter he had received. Had he not hidden the letter from his relatives, it would have been very likely that he would not have gone. However, the letter stated he had special circumstances – which he translated as Boy-Who-Lived business – and he would have been gathered, whether or not it was against the will of his guardians. 

The sound of his compartment clicking open roused him from his musings. His gaze switched quickly from the passing scenery, though it looked more like a lazy change in interest rather than a cautionary measure. His snake hissed quietly at the movement.

In the doorway a boy near his age stood. With light blonde hair, like spun silk almost, and a face and poise that just screamed aristocratic arrogance. The boy looked over the compartment, and him, taking in the snake with a raised eyebrow. He made a quiet noise – disgust or acceptance, Harry wasn't sure – and stepped over to the opposite bench and sat down gracefully.

"Hello."

Harry nodded at the boy.

The other boy's eyes flickered down to the snake and back up to the emerald gaze across from him. He held out a hand. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry nodded again at him and said softly, "Harry Potter." Draco retracted his hand when Harry's made no move to meet it. "And this," he stroked the snake once, "is Deimos." The snake flickered out a tongue and tasted the air about Draco.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

"Likewise, Draco."

* * *

"Firs' years over here! C'mon! Firs' years!" Harry and Draco wandered along with the other first years, gathering around the base of the large man. He waved them closer with his hands and guided them down to a small platform. The air reeked of seaweed, Harry crinkled his nose along with a few others, before resettling his mask and gracefully stepping into one of the many boats at its edge.

* * *

"It'll be jus' 'round the bend 'ere. You'll see it in jus' a second..." The first years gave a unified gasp as their first view of Hogwarts was imprinted in their minds. The small castle twinkled down on them happily, as well as mysteriously, and many of them forgot to duck their heads at the large man's warning. 

At the other end of the lake – which Harry assumed it was judging by the area viewable in the dim light – there was a bit of disturbance and much calling of the name 'Trevor'. The large giant handed a small object to a pudgy boy, it croaked once, and the giant gave a small chuckle before heading up to the large castle doors. He knocked twice and the door was opened moments later by a witch.

She ushered them into a large entrance hallway, and looked down at them over the rims of her glasses. Her eyes pierced the quietly chattering ranks of children and the hushed quickly in fear of the stern, grey-haired woman. Harry admired Professor McGonagall's – as she introduced herself – commanding presence and listened attentively as she described the four houses of the school.

Draco stood beside him, glaring about the crowd and focusing intently on a red-headed boy dressed in robes that were certainly second-hand.

The woman finished talking, and turned briskly to the doors, opening them with a swift push before motioning them inside.

* * *

Harry gazed about amazed – much like the other first years, though his expression was far better masked and his analysis of the surroundings much more intense. His inspection of the ceiling was quick, preferring to study on his own the enchantment the bushy-haired girl to his right mentioned. On the top of a small dais there was an old three-legged stool and an even older, worn hat. When the first years had gathered around the dais' steps, Professor McGonagall turned expectantly to the hat and waited. 

In less than a minute, a portion of the brim split apart and began a song that thundered throughout the hall.

_Oh you may not think me pretty,_  
_But don't judge on what you see,_  
_I'll eat myself if you can find_  
_A smarter hat than me._  
_You can keep your bowlers black,_  
_Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
_And I can cap them all._  
_There's nothing hidden in your head_  
_The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
_So try me on and I will tell you_  
_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_  
_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just and loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_  
_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin, _  
_You'll make your real friends,_  
_Those cunning folks use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Professor McGonagall unwound a scroll of parchment and announced clearly for those in the hall, "When I call your name, please step up to the stool and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head." She glanced down at the list. "Abbott, Hannah!"

The girl mentioned raced up to the stool and the hat was placed on her head. After a moment's pause, the brim opened up again and called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

And so it went on down the line, in an organized alphabetical method. Harry waited patiently in line, amusing himself silently by annoying a certain black-haired professor with an innocent stare.

And then, Draco was called, sorted into Slytherin almost before the hat had made contact. The crowd of children thinned about him before the Professor called out his name and an instant hush fell over the hall. He wormed his way through the small gaggle of those not yet sorted (though they parted like he was royalty), before stalking up to the stool, obviously much like the Potions Master. His last view of the hall was of his peers craning their heads to get a good look at him. The hat was settled on his head and he felt something moving through his mind. An old voice tickled his ears after the quick inspection, though he felt it continue to rummage. _Hello, Harry Potter._

'Hello.'

_A difficult mind, Mr. Potter, very difficult. Haven't seen a mixture like this in a quite a long time. A very intelligent mind; certainly up to Ravenclaw's standards. And a very loyal soul, like Hufflepuff herself. But such a critical view of life for one so young._

'I'm not fooled by the world. My peers will understand sooner or later in their own life.'

The Sorting Hat gave a short, almost bitter laugh. _True, true Mr. Potter. But what else? A plethora of courage, I assure you. And an unmistakable thirst to prove yourself. Oh! And something I haven't seen in but a few select persons... Now, where should I put you, Mr. Potter?_

'Wherever you wish. I'm certain you'll be able to find a place for me.'

_No preferences? _The hat felt the negative response. _In that case, let it be -"_SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

A/N: It's been a while since I updated... (hangs head in shame) I mean tto get ahead in the story a few chapters... like up to chapter seven, but alas, it could not be. So... I may attempt to move onward like I desire, however, that would most likely mean less updates for a bit... even though the story is like going nowhere very fast as far as I see it. sweatdrops Yes well...

Thank you everyone for leaving a review... (joyfully strokes them)

Andromeda Snape-Malfoy: Actually, snape sorta does explain... you have to remember that Harry isn't as child-like as most people may think. I'm sorry if I have been unable to portray to you the fact that Harry is assuming certain ideas because he has a mind trained for it.

Virginia Riddle-Malfoy: Personally, I would be frightened beyond all belief if BL started baby-talking to an animal that would most likely get pissed and try to attack her (though that would usually be a good thing). And I'm not really a big fan of magical flying snakes... and... my Deimos can be magical... and the pic in my mind of an older Harry and that snake is so unbelievably drool worthy to me.

Hello Joe: (ahem) Haven't you ever heard someone say, "Get back here, young man!" to a five-year-old or something? Anyways, I think that a 16-year-old Harry and 30-40-year-old Snape is worse than 11 to 19. Ignoring the fact that the latter is illegal... I'm moving quite quickly through the first years hopefully and they won't really do anything until Harry actually is 15-16.

The Angsty Gothic Angel: Your review made me smile so big! I love when people insert lines of songs like that... makes life more amusing, you know?

Falan: ... Pathetic excuse of a fuzz...

Fangfoot: Is that possible? To have fangs on your feet? Would you taste dirt all the time? What would your mouth be like? Or are they sacred fang braclets? Hmmm... something I shall ponder.

Review please.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

The hush that befell the hall after the hat's abrupt announcement made the walk to his new house table seem infinitely long. However, he stepped off the stool gracefully, and swept over to the Slytherin table, nervousness masked. He sat down near the end, across from Draco and turned his attention towards the head table.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was gazing at him with a slightly confused, slightly shocked, and slightly worried face. Harry gave a mental shrug and physically arched an eyebrow. He was sure that the matter would unveil itself later.

Snape on the other hand, had obtained a look of wry amusement. Harry Potter, son of James Potter the Gryffindor, had been placed into Slytherin under the tutelage of Severus Snape. He cackled madly inside of his head at the memory of the cocky Gryffindor. Dumbledore was glancing at him with uncertainty, which Snape himself returned with an almost pleasant smirk towards him as well as McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall turned from the Head Table, cleared her throat and called the next name on the list, forcing her voice to carry over the whispers beginning to permeate the hall.

The sorting seemed anti-climatic to Harry, as well as a few others in the hall. Their glances and clipped mutterings were enough of a sign.

The Headmaster stood up from the seat and spread his arms to encompass those in the hall. "Welcome old and new to another year at Hogwarts. Before we dig in, I'd like to say, Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak!"

Harry arched his eyebrow again and glanced across the table at Draco, who was carefully laying a napkin on his lap. Draco just arched his eyebrow back and Harry sighed once before picking up his cutlery.

The man was odd. That was one fact that Harry was sure of. However, for all his, uniqueness, the air of power around him was evident and tangible. Truthfully, Harry was quivering with excitement to be taught.

Beside him, his peers were talking excitedly of the Slytherin common room, telling tales passed down from their older siblings. They twittered with excitement outwardly, and Harry, though masking his disapproval at their lack of control, couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile.

They were ambitious just as he, but he was certain that he would far surpass them in power and wit. The ultimate Slytherin mindset.

He could feel it already, Hogwarts' thrumming into life around him, preparing herself for a new school year.

Harry's mouth twitched into an unmistakable smirk and he glanced around the hall with passion alight in his eyes. Turning to Draco, he began a conversation, settling into its pace easily. Controlling the flow of power and the people around him would be simple if he played his cards carefully.

* * *

Harry stepped into line gracefully, following one of the Slytherin prefects to his new dorm. Draco fell into place behind him. 

The orderly line twisted through the halls, each new Slytherin memorizing the dungeons' darkly lit path. At the front, the prefect was pointing out almost unnoticeable 'landmarks' to guide the newcomers through their first few weeks. Judging from Draco's confident smirk, he had already learned of the route prior to coming.

They stopped in front of a grimy wall, well-disguised, but slightly cleaner than the rest of the dark hallway. The Slytherin glanced about the hallway and turned back to the wall, saying quite clearly, "Pureblood."

Age old magic pulled the door open and Harry wondered why the Slytherin dorm entrance was a secret at all; the grating noise had echoed down the hall.

The prefect gestured them in. They gathered into the open area of the common room, glancing apprehensively at the stone walls and the graphic pictures they presented. "Welcome to Slytherin. Hogwarts' most ambitious house, and its strongest. Our Head of House is Professor Severus Snape, the resident Potions Master of Hogwarts. Any questions can be directed towards him or other Prefects, such as myself." The prefect settled himself into a chair after briefly pointing out their dormitories. "Your schedules will be delivered to you tomorrow during breakfast. We will not be accountable if you are late. Good night." Harry glanced towards his companions and they filed to their quarters.

Harry raised an eyebrow once entering the room he would be sharing with the other first year Slytherins. A little too flashy for his own tastes, but Draco seemed to find it wonderful if his expression indicated anything.

Canopy beds were draped with emerald while patterns of silver snakes twisted along the edges. The pillows on each bed were an assortment of the Slytherin house colors. On every surface, including the dark mahogany wood, more silver was etched into the designs. Overall, the room almost glittered when you glanced about. Harry shuddered and sat down on his designated bed.

Draco gracefully threw himself on his own bed, gesturing for the others to find their own places as if they lived to serve him. Shaking his head, Harry gathered his night clothes, brush, and a few other items, deciding to ignore the inane chatter of the Slytherin first year boys.

The conversation's topics changed rapidly and Harry only found himself interested when the group began naming those on their hit list. When the names and descriptions became intriguing, Harry smoothly settled himself into their circle, deciding it would be best to lay the foundations for his ascent into power. Gather their trust at the beginning when they know little; people ask less later when they've known you longer. You just need to 'keep the record clean' as they say.

Giving himself a smirk and an inward pat on the back, Harry diverted his attention to the conversation and easily situated himself into a controlling position, logging away his companion's ideas and restating them in a way that made them seem more _elaborate_ – if you will. His peers relaxed and listened attentively when he spoke, figuring his courtesy to them should be returned, perhaps even two-fold if the Malfoy heir seemed to have befriended him.

When the topics moved on again, Harry excused himself and settled on his bed to brush his hair before opening the door to his pet's mesh cage. Deimos poured out onto the emerald comforter and wrapped around Harry as he snuggled beneath his blankets. "'Night," he called out to the boys, his lips twitching upward in a smirk when they answered back in a happy chorus.

So simple.

* * *

At the crack of dawn, Harry was awake and had already descended down the stairs to shower before breakfast, leaving Deimos to care for himself. Draco joined him a few minutes later stating he needed time to prepare for the day – which Harry loosely translated as time to pamper and admire. However, he kept quiet. Draco held a position of power among the younger Slytherin boys, and it would only help to have that kind of influence on his side. 

Leaving Draco to "prepare" himself, Harry wandered up the stairs, raising a curious eyebrow at the shouting coming from his dormitory. Covering a yawn and placing a look of indifference on his face, Harry walked into the fray. "And why are you acting like imbeciles this early in the morning?"

Theodore turned towards Harry and gaped at him before pointing in the vicinity of Harry's bed. "I swear we had nothing to do with it! It was already there!"

Looking at his bed lazily, Harry mentally rolled his eyes and walked over calmly, ignoring the choking sounds from the dorm, and picked up his angry pet. Sure, Deimos was a bit _large_ for an everyday companion, but couldn't they see his beauty. He settled Deimos comfortably around his shoulders, stroked him sweetly, and turned back to the boys in the room.

"Perhaps I should have introduced you last night. This is Deimos, my pet." He turned to look into the dark eyes of his snake and hissed out a sentence to the astonishment of everyone in the room. They gaped at him in amazement before sliding into the emotionless masks they had attempted to perfect. Harry glanced around the room dangerously, "I am sure you will speak of this to no one outside of Slytherin?"

Those in the room nodded or gave affirmative grunts – the latter Crabbe and Goyle as he believed they were known. Blaise, a quiet dark-haired boy Harry appreciated– as his ideas were quite vindictive – was looking at him with barely concealed amazement. A ghost of, "By Slytherin, a parselmouth..." passed off his tongue and Harry found the room gazing at him with fear, respect, and intrigue.

So simple.

* * *

Once out of the dorms, and on their way to breakfast with Harry and Draco in the lead, the group slid into similar masks of indifference. When they entered the hall very few were there, but those few gazed at Harry's face before chattering quietly amongst their table. 

Scowling, Harry stalked over to the Slytherin table and swept into his spot. He filled his plate quietly as his peers copied his actions. Apparently, most of the hall had yet to realize the almost two meter long snake curled around him. Deimos did blend quite well with his new robes, so there was a possibility he would go unnoticed. However, apparently the scar on his forehead was much more interesting. Harry mentally shook his head at their stupidity and ate slowly.

But really, a two meter long snake unnoticed. Half the people in the room would die in a matter of moments once they were faced in duels, wars, or other things of that sort. More than half.

The hall slowly filled and Harry found himself grateful that he had sat with his back to the large congregation. Their stares were annoying, unnecessary – honestly he looked no different than he did minutes before – and rude. Mostly annoying.

Half of an hour into the main portion of breakfast, what he assumed to be the Heads of House, stood and headed towards their respective tables to pass out schedules. Snape did so quietly and quickly, scowling all the while. When he reached Harry and the other first year Slytherins, Harry flashed him an innocent smile. "Coffee helps."

Snape's scowl became even more pronounced. "It would be helpful to the society as a whole is you kept your useless comments to yourself." His eyes flickered over Harry's form, noting happily that the snake he had bought for Harry was wrapped about his neck. He held out his palm, "Come now, I expect reimbursement."

The raven-haired Slytherin sighed and reached into his robes, retrieving the bag of money he had separated earlier. He placed it into the Potions Master's hand.

"Good boy, I'm amazed. Fully prepared... Oh, we shall get along won't we Mr. Potter?"

Harry glared.

* * *

A/N:I'm proud of myself. I sat down and wrote three pages last night. I have a full summer (mostly) free to write to my heart's content. My final grades were as follows:

(Final / Semester Grade) Band: A/A Honors Social Studies: A/A Plane Geometry: A-/A(only3 A-; everyone else mostly D/E's) Spanish I: A/A Earth Science: A/A Health: A/A(blow-off) Honors English:A/A (blow-off)

So, I'm happy and ready to write. I have to read a few Sev/Harry fics to get into the mood (I'm Naruto ficcing currently), and poof! I hope to be off! So, reviews...

I love you all. Yes, I will continue this fic. I need to get it going, hopefully I can add a few chapters. I want to kill myself because I didn't update soon enough for you, but that would screw you all over as well. I hope the tone hasn't changed;I'm sick and feeling unsarcastic today. I want to get to some good loving, classes, and Sev/Harry action just as much and probably more than all of you. Thank you all again. Any suggestions are welcome.

P.S. - I'm to lazy to run spell check or beta my own chapter. If their are word mistakes, it's the PCs fault. I'm a grammer fanatic. No history today. I'm sure you'd rather I start on a new chapter (hopefully).


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

His first class on Monday, the second of September, was Double Potions with the first year Gryffindors, promptly after the allotted breakfast period. He and the other Slytherins had hurried off to gather their books – gracefully, of course – and were on route to the Potions classroom based on instructions from a second year Slytherin.

At stepping into the room, Harry immediately noticed the absence of Professor Snape, the man who was by far too sour for his age. The room was quite cool, much like the Slytherin dungeons, and was already creepy enough without the various pickled animals floating in jars on shelves. Intimidation was a strong tool and Snape had set the mood in advance. Settling himself at the front of the classroom, Harry pulled out his Potions book to read ahead. Draco copied.

As the last few Gryffindors hustled inside before the bell, Harry became aware of sharp footsteps outside the hall. He set away his book with the others as Professor Severus Snape swept dramatically into the classroom. Those unaware – the Gryffindors – hopped in their seats as he slammed the door.

Placing himself at the front of a class, much like a bat awaiting its prey, or perhaps a vampire, the professor began the roll call. He paused slightly at Harry's name and sneered when Harry arched an eyebrow at him. Returning his attention to the class once finished, he spoke in a dramatic whisper. "You're here to learn the precise art of potion-making. There will be no foolish use of wands in this class; I suspect many of you will not believe it is magic at all." He paused. "Many of you will never understand the soft, steady power of a potion that creeps through human veins to capture its senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death – if you aren't as great a bunch of dunderheads as I usually teach."

The class, which had been hanging on the rich sounds of Professor Snape's whispers, gave slight looks of bewilderment to each other.

"Potter!" Snape called out suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" A bushy-haired girl's arm shot into the air on the other side of the classroom.

Harry paused. He had read quite a bit, but not that. 'Perhaps I should've read the course book before I picked up _Properties of Potions and General Methods for Brewing What You Need_. "I'm sorry sir, but I don't know."

Snape gave a disapproving hum. "Perhaps we'll try again shall we? Where would you look if I told you to gather a bezoar?"

Easy. "The belly of a goat; it can save you from most poisons."

"Very good. Five points to Slytherin. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" The girl on the other side of the room, becoming particularly annoying, waved her hand about.

"They are the same plant; also known as aconite." Harry said quietly, staring at Severus challengingly.

"Good, good." He repeated much like the time before. "Another five points to Slytherin, I think."

Snape set them in pairs – Harry with Draco – to create a simple potion to cure boils. He stalked around the room criticizing everyone but them it seemed.

As the dark professor used their horned slugs as an example, a loud ominous hissing filled the room. Apparently one of the Gryffindors, a young, pudgy boy who he later found was named Neville, had melted a fellow Gryffindor's cauldron into a twisted mass of unsalvageable pewter. The boy was covered in his potion and moaning in pain while the rest of the class stood on stools to avoid the dangerous mess.

Snape swooped down on them like a bat. "You idiots," he hissed out to the obviously terrified pair. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before you removed the cauldron from the fire." He swept his wand and the spilled potion and cauldron disappeared. "Take him to the hospital wing." He spat out to the hurt boy's partner.

Turning to the closest set of Gryffindors, he ridiculed them for not stopping the other pair. The pair tried to protest.

"Not one more word out of either of you. Or you'll find yourself in numerous detentions with the caretaker and notes home to parents. You can be certain I will have no problems ensuring the advancement of discipline within your homes; I went to school with many of your parents."

"But, sir, that isn't possible. You can't be old enough. You would need to be in your forties, or possibly thirties. It's not logical." The bushy-haired Gryffindor intoned from the opposite side of the room.

"I will assure you, Ms. Granger, that there is a perfectly logical reason." Snape stopped.

The class looked at him expectantly and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Muttering a few quiet obscenities, "A few years ago, some _pranksters_ thought it would be funny to slip me a de-aging potion they had designed. However, being the unknowing idiots they were, mixed ingredients, particularly Wren-oat, which prevented reversal of the potion." He glared around the classroom; to have already revealed that he, one of the world's youngest potions masters, had been unable to recognize a prank potion.

When they continued to stare at him, attempting to process the information, he scowled heavily. "Write a foot on the potion we attempted to create today. Be sure to include the ingredients, their effects on the potion, the process, and why it is created that way." A few scribbled down the assignment. Others watched him, interested, trying to plot their own pranks. Let them try, he'd destroy their pitiful attempts. "I expect it at the beginning of the next class. Now out. All of you!"

* * *

Harry's second class, Charms, was far less interesting than his first. The professor, Flitwick, was extremely short and toppled off his pile of books at Harry's name. 

Yes, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Joy. Let's move on now.

The class itself was an overview of the curriculum and tips for proper wand movement, pronunciation, so on and so forth. Overall helpful, but somewhat a waste of time. Harry would have found the class much more preferable if he was actually learning spells, and if the Ravenclaws would stop comparing notes on what they had read about him.

Leaving the class with Draco in tow, Harry mentally evaluated the cause and effect of the Ravenclaws on his plan. On one hand, asking them to stop would remove the annoying stares, but it could cause resentment. Perhaps it was better if they still remained in awe of him regardless of his new house. He had yet to do anything that would separate him as 'Slytherin scum'; a concept Draco had explained to him throughout Charms. Of course, Draco himself was rather bias.

Lunch was the same as breakfast, though with fewer stares and a much louder flock of students. His own Slytherin peer's chatter was quickly remedied when Deimos made himself known.

It was funny. His teachers had yet to mention his companion. Were they that unobservant or had a higher-power – i.e. the headmaster who had been watching him more closely than he wanted – forbid them from making unnecessary comments about his quiet companion. Maybe he could excuse it for house spirit?

* * *

Transfiguration was intriguing, and would certainly be very useful. Very useful in the near future if the Gryffindors persisted to stare at him. 

Unlike Flitwick, Professor McGonagall merely gave a slight pause at his name, a thoughtful glance, and then returned to the roll call. Harry had seated himself on the right side of the class, near the front with Draco and Blaise on either side. He found he had to restrain himself from reprimanding them when their sneers and mutters towards the Gryffindors began to ruin his concentration.

After he broke his first quill they stopped. And he didn't even have to look at them. Good.

* * *

Transfiguration passed in the way everyone dreaded when you wanted a reprieve – slow and utterly boring. Yes, yes, the subject was fascinating, but the theory was dry. Or perhaps it was the lecturer. Regardless, he had managed to transfigure his matchstick to a needle on his third or fourth try; the only other person to manage the full transformation was the bushy-haired Gryffindor from earlier. 

As the bell rang, Harry stood to gather his supplies before heading out the door. As he exited, a small jolt from Crabbe knocked him into the gangly red-headed boy in front of him. The boy's belongings scattered on the floor and were followed by an extensive stream of expletives.

The boy whirled around. "What the hell is your problem?"

Harry blinked at him and met his eyes. "Sorry. It was an accident."

Rather than focusing on his scar – something Harry was secretly grateful for – the boy glanced at his house crest and the Slytherins behind him. Deimos, most likely awakening from a nap, hissed loudly at the disturbance and rose off Harry's neck.

The boy started, but covered up his surprise. "Yeah, sure you're sorry, you snake."

The bushy-haired girl Harry saw in potions stepped up beside the boy and tugged at his arm. "Stop, Ronald. He said he was sorry. Fighting in the corridor is against school rules."

"How in the hell do you think you can get off with carrying that _thing _around, anyways?" The boy continued, untangling his arm from the girl and ignoring her. Behind him, others who had stopped in the hall to watch the confrontation looked at the snake with fear and even disgust– the latter, mostly Gryffindors.

Harry tilted his head to the side and answered coolly, "Professor Snape gave me special permission. He purchased Deimos for me."

"The greasy git?" Ron scoffed. Behind Harry, Draco started forward.

"What _are_ you all doing? Shouldn't you be going to your next class? Go on, all of you."

The bushy-haired girl turned towards Professor McGonagall. "I tried to make him stop, Professor. Really."

"I'm quite sure you did, Ms. Granger. Help Mr. Weasley pick up his things and head off to class." She focused her attention on Harry and the Slytherins behind him. Her gaze lingered on Harry and his pet. "You as well, Mr. Potter."

* * *

A/N: Did you like my ridiculously simple and long Potions text name? Yeah... look I updated again. However this chapter feels really pathetic to me. I hate it. Anyways... I have a question! 

_a) _Should I move through the first few years quickly and give detail only on important events (i.e. how he figures out about the philosopher's stone) and then speed along through the years with Harry's thoughts rather than speech being the bulk (i.e. The months blurred together and before he knew it, it was.../ October was...) or;

_b)_ Write it out at a normal pace where it focuses on Harry and Snape's relationship (or current lack there of) and important events (i.e. the stone), and everything like schoolwork can be summed up in small paragraphs. This way, the story isn't as rushed, but it skips over things so we can get to the Sev/Harry lovin'.

Or.. I'll just ignore all of your opinions and write whatever and see how the story evolves. I'll definately be focusing on Harry and Sev though, throw in quidditch and Gryffindor confrontations, Dumbledore, the stone, all manner of things... So difficult.

Okay! Reviews:

Thank you, thank you to everyone. I had one person say they liked 20 page chapters, and another say they would check tomorrow for another update. Sorry, I do well with short chapters, and, here's a pathetic update. To everyone who mentioned my grades, thank you. They earned me $100. **_Black-Raven3:_** This will not be an evil!harry fic. Not really at least; I hate when he just starts murdering other people and there's really no angst involved. **_Dahlias:_** If you can figure out how to understand my mindset, please contact me. I'm having trouble as well --ask Falan. I'm glad I have your undying devotion (I hope it still is after you read this chapter) -- you act much like how Harry wants his followers, I thinketh. Ensnared by what he does, but failing to figure out why he does it. XD Do not take any of that as an insult. XD

To more people, I could probably do mpreg much later... like in an epilogue or a sequel (if I ever get that far) -- by potion or something. Sadly, Snape isn't a pedophile, or else he would already be with Harry in my mind.

So! Give me feedback on how you want it written -- we'll see what happens. I'll try to start writing overtime but, tomorrow I'll be painting for 5-6 hours (dragons on a wall for decoration at my dojang) so I don't know how far I'll get. Surprise me with reviews or something.

Thanks again!


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Harry found himself unable to avoid confrontation with the Gryffindor first years throughout the following weeks. Not to say there weren't many positive aspects to those weeks, they were just too many Gryffindors.

Shortly after his entrance into school, the _Daily Prophet _– which he received courtesy of Draco each morning – published an article on a break-in at Gringotts. Vault number? Seven-one-three, the vault Professor Snape had visited when he 'toured' Diagon Alley with Harry. Of course, talking to the man gave no clues as to what was in it. Only, "If you really wish to stick your nose where it does not belong, Mr. Potter, do so without bothering me. The library has many references to Nicholas Flamel. You _do_ know what the library is, I hope."

A midnight duel with the Weasel – to Harry's chagrin, Draco's 'pet name' had rubbed off – was easily avoided and forgotten by tipping off the school's caretaker. When he had first mentioned it to Draco, the boy had refused adamantly; he had wanted to curse them into oblivion. But, with Draco's current knowledge of wand-work, which was a very small amount – though Harry never mentioned the lack of intelligence – he would only be able to spout sparks at the Gryffindor. Harry's plan on the other hand had amused many of the first year Slytherins, and Draco swayed with the peer pressure. Already the boys were eager to follow his ideas. Sadly, the Weasel and his second, Neville, had gotten away without punishment.

A scuffle over Pansy's diary led to an offer for the Quidditch team for both Draco and Harry. Draco joined happily; Harry joined for the influence.

--Flashback--

Madame Hooch was a fierce-eyed woman who clearly did not tolerate anything but proper behavior when it came to flying. From the moment he had stepped into line beside Draco, she had taken control of the class with sharp, comprehensible commands.

"Hold your right hand over the broom," she stated from the front of the class, "and say 'up'."

Harry's was one of the few who obeyed the command; many others struggled a few inches from the ground or rolled over uselessly.

She demonstrated the proper way to settle onto the broom to prevent slipping off the handle's tip. "Now mount your broom, grab it firmly, and wait for me to check your grip." After adjusting Draco's grip to the aristocratic Slytherin's horror – which Harry silently snickered at – Madame Hooch returned to the front of the class. "On my whistle, you will all push off with enough force to hover a few feet above the ground. After a few moments, you will lean slightly forward and return to the ground."

She looked each student in the eye. "Now, on my whistle. Three, two, one!" She blew the whistle. Both the Gryffindors and Slytherins rose off the ground without difficulty.

Madame Hooch looked surprised. "All of you rise a little higher by pointing your broom up."

A few people rose a little higher, others stayed at the same height attempting to follow their classmates. Pansy Parkinson, on the other hand, angled her broom at far too steep an angle. It wobbled and she lost control.

A muffled curse from Madame Hooch met the ears of the class. "The rest of you, on the ground! Point the broom downward, Ms. Parkinson!"

The broom slanted downward as if in response to the call. Pansy, surprised at the sudden lurch, slid off the handle and plummeted downwards. She hit the ground with a sickening crack.

Madame Hooch clucked over her nervously. Levitating the unconscious girl – who had promptly fainted when she discovered her wrist broken – she turned to look at the students. "If any one of you leaves the ground, you'll be expelled faster than you can say 'Quidditch'."

She turned and left, leaving the two houses to squabble.

Harry and Draco, along with Blaise and Theodore, decided they would rather talk quietly than join the larger crowd. Draco was snickering wholeheartedly at the memory of Pansy's distressed face, even dragging a few of the others in with his surprisingly well-done imitations. The Weasel's loud voice interrupted their conversation.

"Did you see the pug's face?" Ronald burst into laughter, followed by many of the Gryffindors.

One of the other girls, Millicent Bulstrode, walked up to Ron, getting in his face. "Leave Pansy alone, you weasel." Ron backed up and looked elsewhere. He suddenly darted forward and grabbed something from the grass. "Hey, look!"

The clasp of small book glittered in the sun. _Diary_ was inscribed on the front in loopy letters.

He eagerly pulled at the clasp, frowning when it refused to open. Then the boy smirked to himself and pulled out his wand. He tapped it once, "_Alohomora_." Ronald searched for a page and then cleared his throat.

Meanwhile, Harry had been attempting to persuade Draco to get the book back from Ron – he would protect his own. Besides, Pansy had a lot of influence over many of the Slytherin girls, even those older than her. "Draco, you know girls write _everything_ in their diaries." The boy nodded suspiciously. "Then it could have the password, or the commons location, it may even talk about us!"

With a horrified look, Draco bolted towards Weasley, who dodged. "Give it back, Weasel!"

Ronald, thinking quite quickly mounted his broom and took off, hovering far above the crowd. He continued to read in a falsetto voice, "_... and he's just so cute when he sleeps! Just last night he fell asleep over his Potions essay and woke up with wet ink all over his cheek!"_

Draco, growling, mounted the broom and flew after him to preserve his waning dignity. He barreled towards Weasley and grabbed the book from his hands. After a small scuffle, he pushed away and threw the book towards Harry who had joined him in the sky.

But Harry was much too far for the well-thrown book and it plummeted towards the ground. Without another thought, he followed the diary, watching it fall as though in slow motion. He angled his broom downwards steeply and shot after it – he was gaining momentum – the pages fluttered rapidly and the wind whistled in his ears – he stretched out a hand and snatched it only half a foot from the ground. Enough time to pull his broom up and tumble – gracefully of course – onto the soft grass.

"MR. POTTER!"

Harry froze at the voice and turned around slowly, only to be met with fierce black eyes. His heart sank. Professor Severus Snape glared down at him like a snake preparing to kill its prey. "_Never _have I seen such a ridiculous stunt – you could have snapped you neck – Filch would complain to me about cleaning the blood –"

"Professor, it wasn't his fault –" Proclamations of innocence from the Slytherins filled the air.

"Enough. Mr. Potter, Draco, you will be following me. The rest of you, return to your dorms _now._" Harry and Draco silently trailed after the stalking form, placing twin masks of contrite on their faces.

They walked silently down the corridors before Snape stopped in front of the door for Charms. He opened the door with a quick push. "Excuse me, Filius, I require Flint."

"Oh yes, of course." A heavy-set boy loped through the door as Snape stepped aside.

"Professor?"

"I've found you a new Seeker and Chaser." He clapped the boys on each shoulder, respectively while Flint smirked viciously.

--End Flashback--

He had moved ruthlessly through the placement matches and completed the drills effortlessly, landing him as the youngest Seeker in a century. Draco made it to reserve Chaser – the Slytherins wanted more bulk in the main game. Harry particularly enjoyed the ruthless game play, but found the extensive cheating a waste. Once mentioning it, albeit slightly on accident, led to the creation of many strategy practices.

The headmaster had several 'meetings' with Harry as well, claiming he was getting to know him. The interrogations – essentially, that was what they were – left Harry annoyed and critical. Fawkes, the headmaster's phoenix, was enjoyable and he often wondered how such a magnificent creature would stay with the controlling headmaster. Yes, manipulative. He kept trying to persuade Harry to be resorted. Truthfully, he would have stopped going to the 'meetings', but Snape insisted he had utmost respect for the headmaster.

Speaking of Snape, the second week of school had been grand though. Professor Snape had asked for his assistance one day after a particularly tricky brewing. When the room was empty, he had cleared his throat softly and looked over him once before announcing, "Although your presence is usually unbearable, I have found that you have a talent for Potions, Mr. Potter. And I do not waste talent. You'll report here after classes every Tuesday and Thursday for extracurricular potions lessons. Read the first three chapters in this book. Good day." He wasn't given a choice, but he was beyond caring. Snape had recognized something in him. Added repercussions... Draco followed him around like a lost puppy, trying to learn some of the more vindictive potions – as vindictive as a first year student could make (i.e. excessive hair growth). The first year Slytherins and many of the older ones found him intriguing and argued he must be very talented for someone like Professor Snape – a downright bastard half the time – to actually spend extra time with a student.

The lessons were enjoyable, sometimes painful, especially if Snape had a particularly bad day.

--Flashback--

"Bon appetite, Potter." Snape had suddenly begun, scathingly.

"What?" Harry looked at him confused, brushing away the hair that had become greasy from some of the potion fumes – nothing a good shower couldn't cure.

"Bon appetite, Potter. Drink up." He held up a vial of murky blue potion.

Even more confused, Harry tilted his head. "But, Professor Snape, you said my preparation was flawed; it's not safe for consumption."

"I know that, Potter. Perhaps this will embed the lesson in you mind; proper preparation is the most important step to brewing. Without proper patience you will end up with this dreadful attempt each time. Now, drink."

Giving the vial one wary look, Harry threw his head back and downed the potion.

A minute passed and he blinked at Snape. "I'm not experiencing any adverse effects at the moment."

The professor frowned; damn, he had been hoping for something. A few more minutes passed, Snape had long since turned back to the boy's workbench, searching for unused ingredients and the like.

A solid thump had him turning faster than he had in many, many years.

Harry lay in the fetal position, hands pressing against his forehead. He made only small whimpers of pain. Snape gaped for a moment.

"Potter?" He bent down and pulled the boy's hands from his face. "Harry?"

Harry's scar was bleeding.

"Oh, shit no. I forgot; I can't believe I forgot. The potion cleanses dark magic. Voldemort's curse." He slid his hands under the tense form. "Albus is going to kill me."

Snape, though he would not admit it for many years, _floundered_ for the following minutes, frantically debating on what to do.

Harry had been deposited on the sofa in Snape's private workroom with a summoned wet cloth to soothe the throbbing pain in his head. Watching the professor through half-closed eyes, Harry tried to focus on something other than the ache. "Professor?"

The dark-haired man was near Harry in an instant, "My apologies, Harry. It completely slipped my mind. I had forgotten about your scar."

Harry gave a small smile through the fading pain. He sat up slowly, pulling the cloth from his forehead. "I'm fine, Professor Snape." He flashed another small smile when the man searched his face for the truth. "It feels like a fading headache, nothing more."

"You are certain that you feel fine? No additional ill effects?"

"Just a fading headache, that's it. I can check with Madame Pomfrey in the infirmary if you're that worried." Snape flashed him a scowl.

"I'm not worried about your condition, Potter. Rather, my occupational status at the moment if any one were to accuse me of poisoning the great Boy-Who-Lived." Snape pointed him towards the door and gave him a little push. "Go on, I'll clean up this once."

Harry pretended to not see the veiled look of worry Snape gave him and ignored the hand that lingered after it pushed him towards the door.

--End Flashback--

Well, that had been a more pleasant memory. Some days, Professor Snape would send him to the infirmary without assistance. More than once, Draco had discovered him wandering the walls half blind or swaying like an inebriated cow. Interestingly, Draco had once made a comment that his scar was somewhat more faded than it had been before that particular lesson. Harry could not really see a difference – for he didn't spend hours on his appearance like a certain blonde-haired Slytherin – though he never argued the point with Draco.

His classes took up most of his time, and he was no closer to figuring out the mystery behind Nicholas Flamel. Although, his grades were quite high, though he wished that blasted Gryffindor girl would keel over and die. He was top of the class in Potions with Draco, top in Transfiguration, Astronomy, as well as Defense Against the Dark Arts – which had turned out to be a joke. However, the Granger girl was a close second in those classes, surpassing Harry in others, and seemed to insist on asking if he would study with her. It was possibly the most annoying facet of his first few weeks and he rarely felt annoyed when Draco fought constantly to remove her from their presence.

It wasn't until Halloween that Harry discovered more of the mystery surrounding Vault 713 and the man Nicholas Flamel.

* * *

A/N: The next chapter may take longer, maybe not. I'm restless today, so I'll probably start writing the next chapter tomorrow rather than today. I can't tell if this is option A or B.. it was C... ignore what they say and type a bunch of crap. The next...3-5 chapters will be first year still. The second year arc will be interesting (to me once I stop laughing my head off) I think... Falan suggested something very... interesting.. and I'm toying with it. Anyways...

Reviews:

Thank you all again! I feel loved. **_Althea:_** 36383... a very exact number. I hope that this is a medium-fast speed. **_Athenakitty: _**I can't do a normal pace! (wails) It doesn't come out. **_Heala:_** You'rereading my mind -- sadly, I have to develop... maybe I should just write PWPs... XD **_Virginia Riddle-Malfoy: _**I read your fics before. - Me and my muse... who is apparently interested in joining your Slytherin!Harry Yahoo! group thing.**_HecateDeMort:_** I love you. **_The Greymalkin: _**I've never read that story before... I should search for it; I don't want to take anything. I hope that once I get further along you won't think it will be useless, repeated stuff because I am changing events and what order they flow in.

Well.. the biggest vote was option B, though some said do what I want, others said it's interesting slow. Hopefully you'll all be agreeable with my attempt!

Thanks again, please review.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Harry wandered the halls almost aimlessly, biding his time before the Halloween feast. His last class of the day, DADA, had recently finished and he found himself wishing for solitude rather than the deafening torment of his peers in the Great Hall.

Ever since his first Defense class of the year, Harry had found constant headaches would ail him whenever he was in the room's vicinity. They were particularly painful when Professor Quirrell turned away from the class and Harry was met with the backside of his violet turban. So Harry had taken to sitting in the center row, towards the back. The class was a complete waste of his time. Instead, he studied with Draco and the other Slytherin first years, excluding Pansy who obviously pretended so she was able to stalk Draco. Constantly beside him during class, Draco complained that his Notes Quill couldn't pick up the professor's every word – which was irrelevant to Harry because Quirrell never mentioned anything useful anyway – instead it recorded the private conversations around them.

Which were readily exploited as blackmail.

However, today, Harry had found the headache worse than usual. After gathering a relief potion from Madame Pomfrey in the infirmary, Harry loped lazily down the halls, speaking quietly to Deimos almost thoughtlessly, for most of the students had already found their way into the Great Hall.

Heading towards the staircases, Harry mulled over the Nicholas Flamel mystery, barely noticing when the staircase changed directions. With a frustrated, "Oh, screw it..." Harry turned and started back up the stairs to wait – he was in no great hurry to be surrounded by hundreds of sugar-drunk peers.

And he swore Hogwarts was laughing at him, as the moment he stepped off, all the staircases swung to the opposite side and he found himself abandoned on the third floor corridor, right-hand side. The one the headmaster had forbidden them to enter. He smirked – perfect.

Stopping before the lone door, Harry reached out and attempted to turn the old-fashioned handle. "Of course it would be locked... no illusion to break... it's just locked... everything just has to be simple..." He twisted his right arm and caught his wand as it unsheathed itself from the hidden holster.

Deimos uncoiled around his neck. _What is within, Harry Master? _The snake shifted closer to the door, its tongue flickering rapidly. _I can taste it..._

_I'm uncertain, Deimos. But I do intend to find out._ Harry hissed back quietly. He pointed his wand, "_Alohomora_." The door swung open and he stepped inside. Torches on either side lined the small foyer in which he stood and they lit to accommodate him. He studied the carvings on pillars lining the walls and cautiously walked through the entrance hall.

_There's something alive; it smells like large prey and like Harry Master. _Loud snuffling pervaded Harry's senses. Deimos' speech was easier to understand the longer he was with Harry. A large mammal that possessed an affinity with magic was waiting.

Harry unconsciously gripped his wand tighter as the snuffling and growling noises became louder. With a few more steps he entered a large chamber and immediately moved backward when the shadow of a much larger creature towered over him. Harry didn't bother to mask the look of fear that passed over his face – he, a child of eleven years, would not win against a being more than fifty times his size. The logical part of his brain muttered, "What brainless fool would keep a Cerberus in an institution with young, inexperienced children?"

The resounding call of "Dumbledore" echoed through his mind as the rest of his body avoided the three approaching heads. He watched the animal carefully, backing away calmly, though in actuality quite anxious – as anyone usually is when faced with a large, vicious animal. Looking frantically for the reason for its placement, Harry noticed the trap door beneath the Cerberus' feet with relief. Uttering a soft, "Lumos Maxima," Harry hurried backwards toward the door, ensuring the spell continued to blind the dog. He ignored Deimos' pleas to explore the occupied room, shutting the door tightly, muttering "Nox," before pointing his wand at the door's handle to lock it once more.

Feeling slightly disappointed he was no closer to discovering the identity of the object, Harry walked down the stairs which had conveniently returned – blasted school. He smoothed down his robes, slid his wand into its holster, and resettled Deimos on his neck. The snake gazed at Harry with a disappointed hiss._ Hush, Deimos. You can explore the dungeons after lights out if you wish._

_The new room would have been more intriguing._

Harry tapped Deimos on the nose – _I'd rather not have you killed just yet _– and stalked down to the Great Hall, more than a quarter of an hour late. Professor Snape would be interrogated later; for now, food and companionship would be acceptable.

* * *

The Great Hall was a sight to behold. The enchanted ceiling was dark and stormy; an ominous harbinger that pressed down, though it had no affect on the crowd beneath. Candles and pumpkins – each carved with a different expression – were floating in the air above the tables. A warm glow permeated the room.

The atmosphere was entirely too cheerful for the night of his parents' murder.

No one noticed him as he entered the room and made his way through the laughing crowd, brooding quietly. He sat himself down at the Slytherin table and served himself, trying to ignore the prevalent laughter of his peers.

They noticed his disposition nearly five minutes after he arrived. He would have to work on that.

"What's your problem, Harry?" Draco asked while cutting his glazed ham.

"It's the anniversary of my parent's death." He chewed a piece of food carefully, ignoring Draco's wide eyes. "I am unhappy."

The unemotional and flat tone compelled the others to settle further down along the bench.

* * *

The feast had entered its 'full-swing' state. Pushing the thoughts of his parents and chilling laughter into the back of his mind, Harry charmed his way back inside the chattering mass of lower-year Slytherins.

Responding coolly to Draco's impression of him – which sent the others into bouts of barely concealed laughter at Draco's pout – Harry couldn't help but notice the missing staff. Filch, Quirrell, and the bug-eyed Trelawney.

Filch would be out wandering the halls with his precious pet, Ms. Norris – an animal that Harry would find most enjoyable if it were a decoration in one of Professor Snape's collection of ingredient jars. Quirrell; Harry had no clue. There was something about that man that bothered him, and Harry knew for certain the stuttering was an act – he had heard the man muttering clearly to himself, no hesitance whatsoever. And Trelawney was an annoyance that he had so far had the pleasure of not meeting.

Removing himself from his thoughts, and cursing himself because some of the others had noticed, Harry snapped his had around and focused on the commotion around him.

Quirrell had burst through the doors of the Great Hall. He scrambled up the main path towards the head table; all had fallen silent around him. "Troll!" He bellowed unceremoniously as he reached the center of the hall. "Troll in the dungeons!" The professor swayed, "Thought you'd like to know." And then he keeled over. As his body hit the stones beneath him, Harry's peers erupted in screams.

Draco had a look of utmost horror on his face and Harry almost wanted to join in. Almost. Deimos was threatening to bite him viciously if the noise did not cease.

At the front of the hall, several large bangs erupted from the Headmaster's wand. When the hall was again quiet – mostly, at least – he announced calmly, "All students head back to you dormitories. Prefects, escort the younger years. Anyone found wandering the halls will be severely punished." He looked over his glasses at every notorious prankster. "Teachers, follow me to the dungeons."

* * *

"Harry? Harry, what is it?"

"He didn't 'faint' right." Harry mumbled, eyes shadowed by his hair.

"... What?" Draco arched an eyebrow and nudged Harry. "Explain."

Harry, growling lowly at the ordering tone, looked up at Draco and dropped back to the end of the line. In a quiet, annoyed tone he answered Draco's question. "Quirrell did not fall correctly for someone who fainted. His knees should have given out first, thus it would have been much more likely for him to have fallen forward. Instead he fell backwards."

Draco mentally rolled his eyes, knowing Harry would hex him if he ever did so physically. "Harry... fainting backwards does not mean you're up to something."

A quiet growl met his ears, and Draco found himself halted by the boy in front of him. Harry swirled around and glared at him, eerily similar to their head of house. Their classmates shot glances back, but continued to the common room.

Angered by the almost-condescending tone, Harry bit out, "He fell backwards, his center of gravity should have thrown him the other way. His chin was tucked; his head did not hit the floor. The teachers did not wake him, but he is probably not there anymore." Deimos hissed loudly.

Muttering to himself, Harry wandered off down the hall towards the dungeons, but not their common room. Confused, Draco followed several feet behind him – Deimos seemed more upset than his owner.

* * *

_Where is this troll, Deimos? _Harry hissed to his companion, stroking him on the head. The snake rose off his shoulders and tasted the air. _To the left, Harry Master. Close. But your Draco is following us. _

_He is not mine. _Harry glanced backwards at the boy trailing behind him much like a lost puppy. _Ignore him._

He unsheathed his wand, distantly realizing Draco followed suit.

A foul stench reached Harry before he even saw the troll. A large, lumpy shadow made its way along the end of the hall and it shuffled into... the girl's bathroom. Only moments later a high-pitched scream echoed down the corridor. Raising his hand to rub at his forehead, Harry casually walked towards the lavatory. _I always end up doing these 'hero jobs'._

Deimos snickered, if it was actually possible for a snake to do so, and stretched out from his body.

Harry glanced at Draco from the corner of his eye. "Stay quiet. And stay back."

Draco gave a reluctant nod – after all, if he had saved someone, would he not get more popularity? Harry walked into the bathroom, casting an air freshening charm and a cleaning spell – he had worn his nice robes to the Halloween feast and he would _**not** _ruin them just to save the life of one idiotic student.

The troll, having not yet noticed the short boy behind it, lumbered in the small space, destroying the bathroom stalls and chasing after the owner of the scream they heard earlier; one Hermione Granger. Harry briefly toyed with the idea of her untimely demise, which would thus secure his place at top of the class – not that he wouldn't beat her in the end anyways – but it would be much easier if she was gone.

Bored, Harry repaired the stalls with a charm and watched the troll destroy them again, confusedly. He continued for the next few minutes in the same manner wondering if it was possible to kill the creature through sheer confusion, and at the same time, providing himself with the most entertainment he had all day.

In the background, Draco fidgeted, obviously signaling the end of Harry's much-enjoyed playtime. He sighed and sent a stunner at the troll. When that did nothing, he forced more of his power to flow through the wand, stepping out of the way – gracefully – as it fell where he had just been.

_And as in all novels, the rest of the Light arrives as the hero finishes his great battle._ The group of professors, which included Quirrell, stared at the havoc of the bathroom, taking in the destroyed room and the terrified, unclean Hermione. "Just what is going on here! Mr. Malfoy?"

The boy in question sent a wide-eyed look at Harry for help – who ignored him as usual – and then adjusted himself, tucking away his wand and assuming his young Malfoy charm. "Harry stunned the troll and saved Granger."

At the incredulous looks he received, Draco turned to Harry only to have his arms stuffed full of Deimos as the Slytherin set to repairing the bathroom.

"Mr. Potter, if you would please explain."

"Is there truly a need? Draco covered it quite well I believe. If you'll excuse me." He straightened his robes, tucked away his wand, and stepped around the troll's slightly twitching form. "I have had a long day and I wish to retire. Draco, come. Goodnight Professors, Granger."

"Mr. Potter!" Harry let a smirk cross his face at McGonagall's tone. "Twenty points from Slytherin for disobeying direct orders from the headmaster to return to your dorm!"

As he turned the corner, walking unworriedly with Draco – who was fearfully holding Deimos – he heard Professor Snape's cool voice, "Come, Minerva. I think twenty points to Slytherin a piece for facing a troll sounds much better. And with only a stunner."

"But, it takes three full grown men to stun a troll. Surely –"

* * *

The following day, Harry was up early, strolling through the dungeons towards Snape's chambers, intent on gathering more Potions books to study. Once there, he cast a quiet spell and a smoky '1' indicated Snape was within. He knocked on the door lightly, hissing for entrance when the professor did not answer.

The portrait swung open noiselessly and Harry stepped into the strange, yet familiar surroundings. Stalking towards the private potions chamber, Harry paused in the door way immediately attracting the attention of one startled Professor Snape. "Hello, sir." He stated, glancing casually – though concerned – at the torn up leg Severus had been healing.

"Potter! How did you get in here!"

"Your portrait likes me." He pushed away from the door frame and came around the work table to get a better look. "Oh, the Cerberus in the corridor tore you up a bit? Nasty, those things. Barely managed to get away myself without a scratch. A bit daunting, isn't it?"

"Potter?" Harry gave a small smirk at the confusion in the dark eyes.

"I take it that you headed off Quirrell then?"

"Well, yes, I did. But," Snape paused and looked at Harry searchingly before returning to his still-healing leg. "You know far too many things. Do not get involved in this game Harry; I will have far too many things to worry about if you begin to meddle." He looked up and gave Harry a stern glare.

Harry batted his eyelashes at Severus before smirking. "You'd be worried? The infamous Potions Master of Hogwarts worried about me? I'm touched really."

The man playfully rolled his eyes and exaggeratedly motioned Harry from his rooms. "Yes, yes, Potter. Touched in the head, I do believe. Now get out!"

Harry looked shocked at the jest before practically crowing, "You made a joke!" Once he was shoved from the doors and the portrait closed rather abruptly in his face, Harry let out a small chuckle. He set an indifferent mask on his face, though his eyes shimmered with amusement. With a small, unnoticeable bounce, he stalked up to the Great Hall.

* * *

A/N: Thank you everybody! This has obviously been extended... I will probably never appear again with the workload I have at school... I'll try to write whenever I have a free weekend or long break. My next chapter is gonna be a Christmas Special! I'll try to make it nice and long! I'm gonna try really hard so support me with reviews (cause I'm a review hog)!

Thanks everybody again...

For the hospital: No, I did not get an organ removed, I was close to surgery but managed to avoid it (thank God). I have a follow-up appointment next friday.. the 9th or whatever... so (and I cross my fingers.. do it with me here)... I hope that turns out real good.

PS: School sucks... three honors classes and two science classes -- and I've already had three tests/quizzes assigned and it's only the second day of school. What have I gotten myself into?


	10. Chapter Nine Christmas Special

**IMPORTANT:** Surgery went fine... _I have a Yahoo!Group for this fic: see my profile, click the homepage button there. _http/ groups. yahoo. com/ group / unknownimm /

See my Yahoo!Group page for my extensive author notes (if I have them)!

**Chapter Nine – Christmas Special**

After seeing many of the Slytherins off, giving each of them small books or tokens he had mail-ordered or found – had to stay well-liked – Harry stalked back up to Hogwarts, freezing though his winter cloak was only slightly damp.

Draco was seated at the Slytherin table, holiday work spread around him. He looked up as Harry approached. "A bit cold, Harry?"

The boy scowled. "Quiet, Draco. Finish your work."

"Oh come now, Harry. You don't have to be so... cold."

Harry ignored the barely concealed smirk on his friend's face – it honestly wasn't _that _funny – and instead sat down, picking up the goblet of hot chocolate that materialized in front of him. "Deimos?"

"Sleeping on your bed, where else?"

"Snape?"

"Sleeping on your bed, where else?" Harry growled and smacked him on the back of his head. The blonde rubbed his head moodily before fixing his hair. "Oh fine. Stalking the halls near Gryffindor Tower; ruining holiday cheer and what not."

"Thank you, Draco."

* * *

"Given any detentions yet?" 

Severus just managed to conceal his flinch of surprise. He turned around, looking towards Harry with a small, joking frown. "Only one, I'm afraid."

"Shame. Culprit?"

"The youngest Weasley boy tracked snow all through the corridor; I'll never hear the end of it from Filch." The man paused and gave a mock sigh. "It seems my only joy is from persecuting young Gryffindors, and even that is limited."

Harry nodded in understanding. "I assume you're too busy to play a game of chess then?" The raven-haired boy sighed, casually drying his winter cloak with a quick charm. "Pity. I was looking forward to your defeat."

Severus gave the boy a sidelong glance, as though he actually had to weigh the pros and cons of each activity. "Perhaps..." Harry's eyes unnoticeably lit up. "... I can spare a few minutes to humor your attempts to overcome me."

He swirled around and stalked to the dungeons, cloak billowing with purpose. "Come then, Potter." Harry stalked after him, an almost perfect imitation.

* * *

In the end, Harry lost, miserably. Though he hadn't expected he would have been much of a challenge in the first place. He could talk to snakes, escape a Cerberus unharmed, and defeat a troll with only a stunner, but he couldn't play his way out of a paper bag. 

Severus found it extremely amusing.

And told Harry so. Several times.

* * *

Within the first few days of break, Harry had completed most of his homework. Excluding his Potions essay – best for last and what not. 

Gliding from the Slytherin common room, Deimos firmly wrapped around his torso for heat, Harry wandered towards the Head of Slytherin's rooms. He watched amusedly as Deimos hissed a greeting to a female snake in the painting.

The raven-haired boy shook his head and quietly hissed to the largest snake, _Permission, Razalas?_

_I haven't seen you in a while, speaker. _The portrait-snake hissed back in greeting.

_Professor Snape was being particularly unapproachable._

_Yes... he does tend to be that way... _The painting swung open before Harry could reply.

"Is there a reason you've placed yourself at my doorstep, Potter?" And so arrived the infamous Potions Master.

Glad that Snape hadn't heard him, Harry gave a cheeky smirk. "I was wondering if I could borrow some of your potions books for my essay."

"Mr. Potter, there is an entire library full of books in this castle; I doubt you need my own." Snape answered with his own little smirk.

Harry perked up in a smile and shook his head, hair settling neatly into place. "You and I both know very well, sir, that specific books are needed for this essay." He made a little motion towards the bag he carried with him and gave Snape a pointed look. "I intend to use all the resources at my disposal and get a good grade." He pushed by Severus, "Pardon."

"Potter," his professor barked, "I did not invite you in!"

"But you wanted to."

Severus gave a growl of frustration and shut the portrait, glaring at the boy already settled on his couch.

* * *

It wasn't until the middle of winter break that Harry had time to pursue the mystery of the object in vault 713. 

Well, he could've started earlier but Snape was much more interesting than any book the library held.

Wandering around the library, Harry was grazing his fingers gently along the old spines of the books, memorizing their textures. Madame Pince had long stopped pursuing him when she saw his reverence for the books, allowing his searches to become much more efficient.

Glaring at a few Hufflepuffs who disturbed the silence – inwardly snickering when they jumped out of his way – Harry headed for the cases of books holding less modern history books. The more modern pieces, _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_ among others, held absolutely nothing.

* * *

After hours of searching, Harry felt no closer to his goal; Flamel had only been mentioned briefly as a comparison to another famous wizard if he was even mentioned at all. 

Slightly put out, though you couldn't tell, Harry replaced the books he had removed and headed for the library's exit. With a nod to Madame Pince, Harry had almost stepped through the doors before he spotted something much more interesting – and quite unusual.

Ronald Weasley studying.

Swaggering across the room, with the ever-so-neutral mask of Slytherin house planted firmly on his face, Harry inwardly plotted.

"Hello, Weasley. Studying on such a beautiful day?" The red-head snapped the book shut and glared at Harry.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"I want nothing. I'm just pleasantly inquiring about one of my peers on this fine, winter day." Harry's voice held a fake wistful tone.

"Go away, Potter." Weasley began stuffing the book into his bag, pushing down on it harshly when it didn't fit.

Smirking inwardly, complete with a mental cackle, Harry un-holstered his wand and pointed it at the book, crying out, "_Accio_!"

The Weasel's face flashed with momentary surprise before he lunged towards the book. "Dammit! I need that book!"

Harry danced out of his reach. "Weasel, we don't have any classes that require this book," he glanced at the title briefly, "and I'm sure that you, of all people, are not reading it for pleasure."

The boy made a grab for the book again and Harry shot out, "_Petrificus Totalus_!" Ron froze and tipped backwards as Madame Pince hustled over.

"What is going on here, boys?" She quietly – it was a library after all – screeched.

Charmingly, Harry explained in a sad tone, "Oh, Madame Pince, it was awful. He was shoving this book in his bag, and look! The corner is torn up a bit!" Madame Pince's gaze swung from Harry, to the book, and down to Weasley, where it narrowed.

"Mr. Weasley! This book is property of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! It is not some plaything for you to shove off to the side!" Ron, still frozen, blinked a few times in what he hoped seemed to be an agreement.

Deciding to seal the deal, Harry stroked the cover of the book. "He wasn't even going to check it out with you! What if someone else needed it? I need to use it too!"

Having heard enough, the librarian unfroze Ron and sent him scurrying out of the library with a, "Be glad I'm not banning you from this library, Mr. Weasley! Twenty points from Gryffindor and a detention with Mr. Filch for vandalizing school property!"

Satisfied, she turned back to Harry. "Thank you so much, dear." Harry gave his innocent smile, shyly tucking a bit of his hair behind his ear.

"It was nothing, ma'am."

"It wasn't nothing. Ten points to Slytherin for protecting school property." She hustled over and took the book from his arms. With a few specialized spells, the book was repaired. "Here you go, dear. Could you put it back when you're done?"

"Yes ma'am." She bustled off.

Gathering _The Not-So-Recent Compendium of Wizarding Advancements _into his arms, Harry set it gently down on a more secluded table and flipped it open, running his finger down the index.

Flamel, Nicholas!

_Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone. The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

Harry grinned, that would be fun, then frowned, but a bit boring after a while. He looked down at the book.

_There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six-hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

From this, the young Slytherin concluded three things:

One, the object Snape had obtained at Diagon Alley was the Sorcerer's Stone, an object that could create pure gold or create the Elixir of Life.

Two, the Cerberus on the third-floor corridor, right-hand side was guarding said object from, most likely, Professor Quirrell.

And three, wizarding texts could not follow a single line of thought. Honestly, how does one get from an extremely powerful magical object to opera in one sentence?

Harry shut the book – it having rekindled his respect for Muggle books – tucked it away, and nodded goodbye to Madame Pince before stalking through the hallways to the Slytherin dormitory.

* * *

Christmas morning dawned bright, the grounds of Hogwarts covered in a thick layer of snow. Icicles frosted the limbs of trees weighting them down until they looked like dark green waterfalls. 

In the Slytherin dungeons, far away from the beauty of the outside world, Harry was silently resisting the tugs of his friend.

"Come on, Harry! It's Christmas!"

"I refuse." Harry pulled his wand from his pillow and muttered, "_Tempus_." The time of 6:34 floated in the air before him. Harry gave an unnoticeable groan and placed his wand beneath his pillow again. "It is too early. It can wait."

Draco whined, leaving Harry very tempted to transfigure him into a dog of some sort. "Harry! Christmas can't wait!"

A mutt. A scraggy mutt. That would be a good blow to his pride.

"Christmas will have to learn to be patient." Harry shuffled a bit, pulling his blankets up and cuddling Deimos.

Seeing that his techniques weren't working, Draco huffed before crossing his arms. He wanted to open his presents. And Snape had said that everyone had to be...

Snape!

"Harry, if you do not wake up within the next five minutes, I'm going to Snape's quarters and forcing him to come wake you up."

On the bed, Harry's eyes flashed open. He did **_not_** want to deal with Snape early in the morning on the happiest day of the year. It was an awful combination.

Harry rolled in his bed, sitting up and shaking his hair so it fell into place. "Fine, Malfoy." Draco grinned and gave an excited bounce.

"Remember, you have to be down in five minutes!" Harry grumbled.

The last thing Draco heard before he was forced from the room was, "I'm giving your present to someone else."

* * *

"Happy Christmas, Harry! Would you like some hot chocolate? You can sit right by the fire, if you wish. Would you like a blanket, Harry? It is a bit nippy this morning." 

Harry glared. "Stop being nice. You are not getting a present anymore."

"Oh, I'm not being nice for anything like that, Harry. Just hospitable." The blonde smiled at him charmingly. Harry growled. He was trying to use his charm. He had perfected that; even Snape had trouble resisting.

The raven-haired mumbled something that sounded like, "Hospitable, my ass..." before cuddling into the sofa with Deimos wrapped around him. Regardless of his words, he accepted the cup of hot chocolate from Draco.

"Separate the gifts, Draco." Harry inwardly smirked as the blonde jumped to obey. "And bring over the one I had intended to give you."

"But Harry..."

"Slytherins do not whine, Draco." The blonde grumbled, before smoothing back his hair – as if anything could mess something with that much gel in it. Annoyed with the style – and finally deciding to give into the temptation – Harry un-holstered his wand before pointing it at the blonde's hair.

As blonde bangs fell into Draco's eyes, he huffed and looked back at Harry holding his wand. "It took me hours to get it perfect, Harry!"

"Trust me, Draco." Harry gave a little purr, "It looks much better down. Deimos agrees."

Draco shot a look at the snake, muttering, "Traitor." He pulled out his own wand and levitated Harry's presents to him.

Harry couldn't help but show a little bit of surprise at the number of presents he had received. Aunt Petunia would usually sneak him something small and useful on Christmas, namely books, but he had never had more than one thing.

"Don't act so surprised, Harry." Draco had seen the look on the other's normally emotionless face. He settled onto the couch next to Harry, the cushions sinking and forcing him closer. "Everybody loves you. They practically worship the ground you walk on when you aren't around to hear them. Trust me, I know."

Harry smirked. Perfect. Now if he could get them to do so when he **_was_** around.

"Anyways! Let's open up presents, Harry. You can go first." An almost pained look came over Draco's face at the last sentence.

Feeling slightly sorry, Harry adjusted Deimos and re-holstered his wand. He turned to Draco and opened his mouth – and then he saw the hopeful look in Draco's eyes. The blonde had expected him to give in! He continued on, "Thank you, Draco."

And he picked up a present, enjoying as the other boy gave a pout and huffed. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

Harry opened it, stared, and then offered a chocolate frog to Draco. The blonde leaned over. "I think you have an admirer."

"That's nice." He set the frogs aside and picked up another. "Come on, Draco. I'd rather not be caught in here all day."

From there, the piles dwindled, most contained sweets or even the occasional book. When Harry had almost finished, Draco – who'd already finished – stopped him and eagerly pointed towards a long, small gift. "Open it. It's from me. Be careful with it."

Harry sighed and unwound Deimos from his lap, setting him into Draco's surprised hands. He picked up the gift and placed it on his lap, ripping the paper delicately and carefully, ignoring Draco's annoyed snort.

Harry lifted the lid of the box and stared emotionlessly inside. Draco shifted nervously beside him, jostling Deimos who hissed towards Harry, _he's making me uncomfortable. Say something._

Inside the box was a dagger; pure silver with hematite studding the handle. It gleamed oddly in the dungeon's dim light, casting off a dark sheen rather than the bright flash Harry expected.

"It... it's a ceremonial dagger from the Malfoy estate. Father gave it to me a long time ago and I thought that you would appreciate it more." Harry still hadn't said anything, just running his fingers over the hilt. "I know you like rituals and potions, so..."

Harry opened his mouth, before realizing his throat was too dry to form words. He closed it again, shocked. He had never gotten anything so valuable before from someone else – minus Deimos, of course. If what Harry knew was true, these daggers were extremely expensive and rarely used; only for strong healing potions and antidotes whose ingredients were just as hard to come by.

Letting his mask drop, Harry glanced up at Draco and truly smiled, "Thank you, Draco..."

The blonde was shocked at Harry's look – the boy never smiled – but recovered quickly and gave a little smile back, "You're welcome, Harry."

Both boys sat in silence, slightly awkward, before they simultaneously turned back to Harry's pile. Harry put away Draco's gift with extreme caution before pulling out the other boy's present. He sighed and held it out, "I guess you can have this..."

Draco gave an uncharacteristic grin and tugged the wrapping paper off the box hastily. He opened the lid and snorted, "Book. Typical." Then he squealed when he saw the title – _Alchemy & Blood Seals –_ barely containing his urge to hug the other boy. "Where did you find it?"

Harry gave him a pointed look.

"Oh, yes. Slytherins never reveal their sources." He placed the book aside with as much reverence as Harry his dagger. "Thank you so much, Harry."

Harry raised an eyebrow and nodded, grabbing one of the two last presents on the floor. It was wrapped in a thin tissue paper with no tag attached. He tugged the strings undone curiously, Draco leaning over his shoulder. The paper slipped away to reveal silvery cloth. Harry stood and shook it out. Simultaneously, both boys gave a little gasp, "An invisibility cloak."

Harry set the cloth aside, and gathered Deimos back from Draco as the other boy stood to pick up a tiny piece of parchment.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. _

_It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

"Odd note. There's no name, Harry." Draco announced after he finished reading for the two of them.

Harry gave a little shrug and flipped his hair back. "Regardless, the cloak will be useful." Draco gave an affirmative noise, tossing the note towards the fire. He bent down and picked up the last present for Harry, handing it over.

Removing the paper revealed two potions books from none another than the Professor Snape. The accompanying note read:

…

_Perhaps with a little bit of work,_

_you'll be able to assist me with some of_

_my _simpler _potions._

…

_Professor Severus Snape_

_Potions Master;_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry gave an amused chuckle.

* * *

"I thought you weren't going to spend any more money on me." 

Getting used to the boy's abrupt comings and goings, the Potions Master didn't even turn. "It benefits me. Merlin knows I need to free up more time with all of you brats running about."

Harry nodded at the man's back, glancing back at Deimos who had settled before the man's fireplace. "Do you acquire assistance?"

The dark-eyed man stepped to the side and made a noncommittal noise. Harry stepped up beside him and glanced at the potion's name – Draught of Peace. Insert mental snicker.

"Prepare the moonstone."

"Yes, Professor Snape."

* * *

Three days later Harry had yet to experiment with his invisibility cloak. Draco had been bothering him continually and Harry, finding his limited patience worn thin, agreed to test it out that night. After he gave into the temptation and hexed Draco – nothing too bad, he didn't want to really upset the blonde. Besides that, it would be a bad idea for the others to get wary of him this early in the game. 

Deciding the best use for the cloak would be to discover the castle's many secrets, Harry waited patiently until the sun had fallen before setting out.

Stalking the halls quietly, Harry wasn't surprised when he found no new routes or hidden paths. Only when Mrs. Norris, bane of every student at Hogwarts, sniffed in his direction – or rather Deimos' – did Harry find himself in a previously unexplored hallway.

After all, "The only people who ever get anyplace interesting are the people who get lost."

Darting into an unused classroom, Harry waited patiently for the red-eyed cat to pass him and his pet by. He breathed a small sigh of relief when the soft pitter-patter of paws disappeared. Losing his cloak so early would have been a severe disappointment – how else would he terrorize Gryffindors?

Giving the room a quick look around (Filch always followed behind his pet), Harry's attention was caught by something unusual, something so out of place in this dusty, dirty classroom.

A mirror. A dusty, dirty, golden mirror – perhaps not that out of place. And carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi. _It took only a moment for it to click.

_I show not your face but your heart's desire._

With an unnoticeable swallow, Harry dropped the cloak and stood in front of the mirror, one hand gripping Deimos tighter than normal.

Behind his reflection two indistinct figures materialized, his parents – he recognized them from the history books. Then beyond them more figures, much more familiar materialized but they too were blurry and shadowy. Legions of dark figures were around him. Deimos was curled around his torso twice his normal size, books piled at his feet, and Harry recognized the familiar figures of his Potions Master and his dorm mates ranged on either side of his parents. But everything was blurry, shadowed, and indefinite.

Reaching forward, Harry touched the mirror, the cold surface shocking him. He stumbled backwards and grabbed his invisibility cloak, throwing it over his shoulders before dashing from the room.

* * *

"Quiet, Ron!" 

"Quiet yourself, Neville!" There was a loud scuffling noise, and Harry peeked around the corner, all thoughts of the mirror pushed away.

"I'm going back up to the tower, you can handle this thing right?"

"Yeah, Charlie's probably waiting right now." A few soft footsteps echoed down the corridor and then stopped. "Neville... it's just a baby dragon. It can't do much; the thing isn't more harmful than Hagrid."

"Not reassuring, Ron. I'm going then."

"Yeah, just go."

As Neville's footsteps faded away, Harry stepped around the corner, watching the dark form of the Weasel. Owning a dragon was illegal. Snape would love to put the red-haired boy in detention.

With that thought in mind, Harry rushed down to the dungeons, knocking on Snape's portrait, knowing full well the man had yet to fall asleep.

"What?" Snape hissed menacingly as the portrait opened a slit.

Harry tugged off his cloak, ignoring Snape's look of surprise, and whispered back, "Ronald Weasley is smuggling a dragon out of the school." He forced his way into the room.

The Potions Master blinked before he turned a glare down to Harry. "While that is all well and good, Mr. Potter, it is past curfew and you are out, something punishable by detention."

"But..."

"Nothing, Potter." Snape leaned down closer to Harry when the boy deflated in front of him. "Quirrell is up to something and you know it. I specifically said I didn't want you to get involved." He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed Harry out of the foyer of his quarters. "Detention with Filch, Mr. Potter. And stay in the dorms after lights out." The portrait was almost closed, "Leave it alone, Harry. I don't want to lose my one competent potions assistant."

* * *

Harry's detention was scheduled late in the evening several days after, with Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper of Hogwarts. He blubbered over Harry for a while, praising his parents, waiting for the other students to arrive. 

Filch toddled out of the castle, two figures following him. The man was lamenting about the screams of young children, and Harry would've found himself nodding along as well had it not been for Draco's appearance.

"What are you doing here?" He hissed when Draco was close enough – or rather out of the Weasel's range of hearing. Harry adjusted his cloak, mentally cursing the brisk air.

"Snape decided you would need company."

Harry rolled his eyes and fixed Draco with a commanding look. "What did you do this time?"

"I walked in on one of his meetings with McGonagall."

"I would think that normally that would be appreciated."

"Well, yes... but..." Draco gave a little cringe and peeked at Harry. "I..." Draco gave a little cough here, "... sort of ran in saying 'Uncle Sev'."

"That would do it." Mentally, Harry rolled his eyes. It was true that Snape abhorred being called that name in front of is colleagues – he would be accused of going soft and what not. Maybe Harry was looking too far into it, but it sounded like Snape _did_ just want to send company with Harry. Quirrell must have him really paranoid if he's sending his own godson.

Glancing sideways at the look of fear on Draco's whimpering face – it was just the Forbidden Forest, after all – Harry stopped and revaluated his thoughts. Perhaps not.

* * *

"Fine, but we get the mutt then!" 

Trying very hard to not hit himself repeatedly, Harry sent a heated glare at Draco. Really. The dog is more of a coward than you are.

Draco exchanged a few more words with the booming Hagrid, watching as the man tottered off, confirming in a last shout that his dog, Fang, was indeed a, "Bloody coward."

When Draco was in pace with Harry, the raven-aired boy promptly reached up and smacked the boy in the back of the head. The blonde fussed over his hair as Harry sped up to walk in front. "You will walk behind me until I have enough self-control to prevent myself from hitting you again."

"But..."

"Draco, be quiet. Make yourself useful and look for the blood." Draco huffed under the condescending tone, but said nothing back. "I have a potions project Snape wants me to complete."

* * *

"Harry?" 

The boy in question snapped back, "What?"

"I think I found the unicorn." Harry turned from surveying the softly rustling leaves of the surrounding forest and peered into the clearing Draco pointed out.

"Oh."

At his soft utterance, the clearing went dead silent, the lack of noise disturbingly unusual. Harry and Draco each spared a glance at the other, before both simultaneously turned back to the silver sprawling form of the unicorn.

And the dark form above it.

Draco gave out a little cry and fumbled for his wand, shooting off sparks high into the sky, mentally praying the groundskeeper would be nice enough to save him. In the clearing, the figure lifted its hooded head from the unicorn's neck, a small trickle of silver leading away from the corner of its mouth. Harry himself stumbled backwards, his scar throbbing painfully as the figure advanced towards him.

Draco tugged on him harshly, helping him to his feet as the sound of thundering hooves echoed around them. They scrambled over the tangle of roots littering the forest floor just as another form broke through the trees, its hooves flailing. The thing made an angry hissing noise before swooping off deep into the forest.

"The forest is a very dangerous place at night."

The boys' eyes slid over to the large palomino centaur. Its astonishing blue eyes, like pale crystals, shined back at them eerily. The centaur stared at Harry for the longest time, stopping only when the boy shifted restlessly. "Are you all right?"

"... Yes." Harry cleared his throat. "Thank you." Draco echoed him and Harry found himself glancing in the direction where the thing disappeared. "What was that?"

"The forest is not safe for you, Harry Potter." The centaur repeated, ignoring his question. "Can you ride?" The boys looked at him warily. "My name is Firenze."

He knelt down, motioning for Harry and Draco to clamber onto his back. With no other thought but escaping the depths of the Forbidden Forest, they clambered onto his back. Their hands slid over the thick coat, finding very little to grip on. No sooner had he stood, before they were flying through the woods, boys gripping each other harshly.

Over the thundering of Firenze's hooves, others joined in. Two forms barreled out on either side of the centaur, forcing him to pull up short.

"Firenze!" One thundered, startling the creatures into a flurry around them. "Have you no shame? Carrying around humans on your back!"

The centaur beneath the boys thundered back just as dangerously, "Do you not know who I carry, Bane? This is the Potter boy! He is not safe in this forest; the sooner he leaves the better!"

The other new arrival pawed the ground nervously. "Bane, I'm sure Firenze is doing what he thinks is best."

Bane hissed back, addressing both, "For the best? We are sworn to never disagree with the heavens! Have neither of you read the planets?" He ended his tirade, hooves pounding the ground angrily.

Firenze reared back suddenly, leaving the boys scrambling frantically for a hold. "Do you not see the innocent blood of the unicorn? Do you not understand why it was slain?" He backed away from Bane and the other. "There is something in this forest, Bane. Something terrible and cruel enough to slay one of the world's most pure creatures, and I have set myself against it! Fighting with humans, if I must!"

The Firenze turned and thundered away, boys staring behind them wide-eyed at the shocked centaurs. They plunged through the trees, Draco bruising Harry's sides with his grip – he'd be sure to _extract_ an apology later.

Firenze slowed down to a walk before stopping completely, lowering himself so the boys could remove themselves. Again, Harry found himself pierced with those pale eyes. The centaur turned and walked through some dense brush. "Do you know what unicorn blood is used for, Harry Potter?"

Startled by the question, Harry answered tentatively, "Yes."

"Then you know it is a terrible thing to slay something so innocent, so pure, so beautiful?"

Harry nodded. Draco nodded as well, "It is used in only the darkest of things."

Firenze switched his gaze to Draco, his pale eyes shining like Draco's, but on a whole different level. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a heinous crime. The blood will keep you alive, even if you find yourself only an inch from death, but you will, instead, forever live a half-life, cursed."

Harry's eyes widened as he made the connection within his mind. But Draco did not yet know what Harry had discovered; he hoped that Firenze understood his look.

"Then you know, Harry Potter. I will leave here now. Hagrid is on his way and you will soon be safe. The planets have been read wrongly before, let us hope they were tonight. Goodbye, Harry Potter." The palomino disappeared into the brush as Hagrid appeared, breathless from his rush.

"You'll righ' there, boys?"

Shivering, his cloak useless with the cold he felt, Harry replied, "We're fine."

* * *

"What did Firenze mean, Harry? What haven't you told me yet?" Harry blinked up at Draco from his place in the boy's lap. A headache had been bothering him ever since the incident in the forest and he had promptly flopped down – gracefully, of course – the moment they had returned, much to Draco's annoyance. But that was not here nor there. 

Safely back inside the castle, warming himself by the fire, Harry thought carefully. He didn't truly believe he could completely trust Draco, but he owed the boy some respect. Not many had insisted on attaching themselves to him – not that his cousin had helped. Briefly musing that this must be how Snape felt, Harry closed his eyes.

"I think that thing in the forest was Voldemort."

The blonde tensed beneath him.

"And I think I'd like a headache potion too."

* * *

A/N: Yes... the troll is anti-climatic; so is my Harry. One person said I was going to fast and that I needed reasons for why my Harry was the way he was (nice little mini-Voldie that he is). Harry is actually like me, exaggerated. I expect my friends to do what I tell them, when I tell them, no questions. And I'm abusive... XD Ask Falan, she's already seen this note and agrees. And I'm also the typeof person who would play with something before I murdered it. Not that I'm going to murder anyone... anytime soon... 

Oh! Cookies to whoever guesses where the line, "The only people who ever get anyplace interesting are the people who get lost..." came from. Falan you can't say anything!

**THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS!**


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten 

Harry sighed deeply as the sound of hundreds of voices passed muffled through the doors of the Great Hall. It seemed that his holiday had finally come to an end. As high-pitched laughter filled the air, he winced, along with Draco, wishing already for the next break.

The Headmaster was cheerily greeting students and teachers alike as they wandered past, his robes of dancing moons and purple causing many a teacher – namely Snape – to twitch in disgust.

"This night will never end, will it?" Draco winced as another series of high-pitched giggles came from the Hufflepuff table.

"Shut up. You'll only make it longer if you talk like that."

Draco glowered at him, but shut up, turning to face the head table as everyone settled themselves in.

"Welcome back, everyone! I'm sure you are well-rested from your holidays; ready to get back to work, I hope!" He gave a wink, obvious to all the tables.

The Slytherin table attempted to remain emotionless, passing off their shudder as simply one from the chill.

"No need to delay you further, I think. Dig in!" He tucked his beard into his belt and sat down.

* * *

"Why do we bother attending any feasts at all?"

"You are whining Draco." Draco pouted before narrowing his eyes at Harry.

"And you are happier than normal."

"I'm never happy." Draco blinked.

"No, normally you would be as annoyed as I am. What did Professor Snape say?"

Harry skillfully remained completely at ease. "Does my 'happiness' always occur when I speak with Snape? You are assuming, Draco."

"Do not change the topic, Harry. Tell me!" Draco scooted closer to Harry on the couch, glaring at Deimos when he hissed.

Harry mentally swore, knowing he was letting Draco too close if he could detect the topic change so easily.

"Nothing."

"Something."

"Draco," Harry started calmly, "I will set Deimos on you if you continue to pester me."

Draco stiffened and subtlety scooted away.

* * *

The first week back from break passed by much quicker than anyone could imagine. Even Snape seemed please that the students felt the rush of their first year of incoming exams. The extra hours of Potions essays regardless.

"I want a one and a half foot essay on the uses of powered fairy wings by Monday. Print can be no larger than one millimeter... Weasley."

The boy in question flushed, but did not glare as he was shifting anxiously for the final dismissal of that Friday to come.

The noise of a great bell tolled across the grounds, and the students hurried out of their seats, rushing away even as the Potions Master took points. At a much more sedate pace, the Slytherins filtered from the room, heading straight towards their common room.

As the door shut behind the final Slytherin, Snape collapsed in his chair, rubbed the bridge of his nose and picked up a quill. Dipping it deliberately in the bottle of red ink, he stroked a large red line through a student's title, following it with a cruel remark.

"You really should take a break, Severus."

The man jumped. "Headmaster!"

"I'm sure your quill wouldn't slip as much."

"Albus, I am entitled to grade essays in whichever way that I see fit."

"Yes, yes." The man twinkled at him. "I'll just be on my way then, make sure you remind Minerva to take care of the school, while I step out for a bit. Wouldn't want to come back to mounds of paperwork."

"Yes, yes." Snape mocked, motioning the man from his classroom. "Now, leave. I have papers and dreams to ruin."

* * *

..._fire gleamed around the entire area, reflecting off the mirror and casting strange shadows on the ground. His reflection reached into his pocket and pulled out a blood red stone, a ragged voice demanded to be told what he saw…_

"Harry!"

With a deep gasp, the boy sat up in shock.

"Are you okay?" Draco's voice was immediately echoed by the others in his dormitory.

"I'm fine, what happened?"

"You had a nightmare, I think." Draco looked at him uncertainly and with fear. It took Harry a second to realize Deimos, well over a few meters now, was chanting death threats from the bed.

"I'm fine now," Harry stated as he slid out of the covers and a grabbed a robe. _That was too real to be a nightmare. _"I'm going to go wash my face, you all go back to sleep."

* * *

"He's fine, Draco."

"Blaise!" Draco whispered heatedly. "It does not take Harry 20 minutes to wash his face. He could be on the other side of the school by now!"

"Draco..."

The blonde narrowed his eyes and stood up, "I'm going after him."

Knowing that no amount of persuasion would change his mind, Blaise sighed before following the angrily stalking blonde.

* * *

Harry felt somewhat stupid standing in front of the door on the third floor corridor in nothing but a bathrobe, clutching his wand. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I really need to start planning these things... there is no way this can be intimidating."

He shook his head, pointing his wand at the door and muttering an unlocking spell. As he stepped into the dim passageway the torches lit again. Deciding it would be best to at least shut the door, he turned around and grabbed the handle, starting to pull it shut. He heard a muttered "Oh, no you don't." before a pale, manicured hand – that could only belong to one person – reached around the edge of the door and began pulling it open.

A small tugging contest ensued before Blaise stepped through the small opening and Harry realized the game was up. He sighed, letting go of the door, listening to the satisfying thump as Draco fell onto the ground. _Take my pleasures while I can, I guess._

He turned to Blaise. "What do you think you are doing here?" he hissed.

Blaise jerked a thumb back at Draco who was brushing off his clothes and fixing his hair. "Ask prissy-boy."

Said boy stopped primping and huffed before taking a step back at the look Harry was giving him. Draco made a humming noise, "Ummm... you needed back-up?"

Harry tapped his foot and leveled his wand at him, "Nice try."

Draco refused to back down. "Look," he said, "I'm not leaving so you might as well just do what you're going to do in the first place – whatever the heck that is." Blaise shook his head in the background at Draco, but turned to nod at Harry stubbornly as well.

Harry, in a signature Snape move, pinched the top of his nose before commenting, "You are turning into a Gryffindor." A squawk of outrage met his ears. "But, since I really do not wish to be delayed any longer, I guess I will have to suffer through you stupidity. Just try not to get us killed Draco."

"How come you aren't saying anything about Blaise?"

"Because I am almost positive he told you something along the lines of, 'he's fine', but you decided I would need your help and rushed off to find me." Harry paused and glanced at Draco who almost sullenly nodded at him before continuing. "Then he followed you here to ensure you would not kick the bucket, as they say."

The corridor remained silent after his last comment. Harry turned and wandered down the hallway much as he had before, following the ragged breathing of the Cerberus. Behind him, Draco began humming something to himself.

Knowing it was merely a distraction technique, Harry let him do as he please. The added bonus of his own nervousness decreasing had nothing to do with it.

As the movements of the Cerberus became much louder, a sudden thought occurred to Harry. "You brought your wands, correct?"

Draco's humming ceased for a moment as he frantically padded his own nightclothes, calming when he felt the familiar wood. Blaise nodded and rolled his eyes.

"Well," Harry said brightly, "Let's hop to it then!" He walked into the large chamber, staring up at the three-headed dog with no small amount of fear. "Cerberus', Cerberus'..." he muttered to himself.

Meanwhile, Draco had resumed his humming – which was now more of a frantic tune with no rhythm than anything closely resembling a song. Blaise stood slightly behind and to the left of Harry, wand trained on the dog and ready for Harry's first order.

And as Harry racked his brain for information about certain large three-headed dogs that really shouldn't be located in a school full of children, he realized the steady growling that had permeated the room since they had entered was absent.

He looked up, finding the dog asleep, paws on the ground, his six ears twitching to the rhythm of Draco's little tune. Draco himself, noticing the dog was now harmless breathed a sigh of relief and quit humming.

Then the dog twitched.

"Hum, you idiot!" Draco gave Harry a startled glance and started again.

"That is probably the only time you will ever hear that." Blaise joked, releasing some of the tension.

"Please keep your thoughts to yourself." Harry murmured before stepping over to the dog and glaring at the large paw that covered the trapdoor. "Help me move this. I'd like to get to sleep again at some point during the night – there is homework to do tomorrow after all." He shuffled the foot off with the help of Blaise. "I need to review my _Properties and Utilizations of Fairy Wings _essay for Professor Snape."

Blaise stopped and stared. Draco, to busy humming, just raised his eyebrow at him. "We are standing in a dark chamber," Blaise began, "Next to an enormous three-headed dog, Harry. And you care about your _Properties and Utilizations of Fairy Wings_ essay?"

"You don't realize how many potions fairy wings are a catalyst for do you, Blaise?" He opened the trap door and motioned the others over. Harry glanced at Blaise, "No, of course you don't."

Blaise peered down into the blackness. "Is this safe?"

"Well, let's find out." Harry shoved him in, in a true show of Slytherin self-preservation. "Are you still alive?" He called out.

A faint affirmative rang out.

"That is our cue Draco. Come." He grabbed the pale blonde's hand, and jumped – gracefully, of course – into the inky blackness.

* * *

"Oh, honestly Draco, you are not going to die. It was merely a plant." Harry brushed off some invisible speck of dirt from his bathrobe.

"A plant that slowly suffocates its victims to death!"

"Well," Blaise chimed in, "I'm sure there are worse. I hear they have plants in India that feed of the blood of their victims, draining them dry as they scream."

"Fascinating." Harry mused, as Draco gave a little shudder. "Like some sort of vampire plant."

"Yes, it is quite interesting." Blaise motioned politely for Harry to lead the way to the next death trap. "I believe we cover it in fourth year Herbology."

Water trickled down the walls as the trio stepped quietly through the corridor, their steps echoing eerily.

Draco started humming again.

"Please refrain. I cannot think when you insist on being annoying."

A pause. "Sorry."

* * *

"What do you suppose will happen if we cross the room?" Draco asked, glancing up at what appeared to be keys with wings.

"Worst case scenario – we are stabbed to death by blunt and rusting keys." Harry took a step forward, relaxing when nothing untoward happened. "Best case scenario – nothing happens until we touch the door." He took a few more steps across the chamber, the other boys following.

They reached the other side. "Large, old, and silver."

"What?"

"The key. It is probably large, old, and silver. Tarnished – similar to the door handle." Harry glanced around at the keys and tried to summon one towards him. It resisted.

"Harry." Blaise pointed at an old broom that leaned in a dark corner.

"Perfect. Draco, time to show us the latent seeker skill you claim to have."

Brushing a strand of silvery blonde hair out of his face, Draco loped over to the broom and threw one leg over it. The keys burst into a flurry of activity, heading straight towards him. "Oh bugger."

"That's one way to put it." Blaise joked, relaxing with Harry as Draco dodged the rain of keys.

_Ahh... the smallest things in life always bring the greatest pleasure._

Draco made a muffled triumphant noise as he crashed into the wall, pinning a large silver key. It flapped its wings pathetically in Draco's grips as he sped towards the others, jamming the key into Harry's hand. He took one more lap around the room, urging Harry to unlock it just a little faster.

The door opened and they scrambled through – gracefully –, with Draco flying above them. The door swung shut with a resounding thud and a clatter of metal as the keys pelted into the other side.

"Oh, joy." Blaise stated wryly. "Chess – my favorite."

"I assume we just have to play ourselves across." He stepped up and tapped a knight on the shoulder. "Is that correct, good sir?" At the quick nod, he stepped back and motioned Draco forward. "If you would do the honors. And please don't forfeit anyone."

"Yes, Harry."

* * *

"I hate chess." Blaise muttered as he stepped across the threshold into the next room. "And trolls." Purple flames sprang up behind him. At the other end of the room, black flames burned.

"I hate whining." Harry retorted. He glanced at the flames, before stalking towards the table. "Logic and potions – Professor Snape's of course."

"Here, Harry." Draco handed him a piece of paper. Harry graced him with a small smile.

Harry recognized Severus' scrawl on the paper, flowing elegantly from one side to the other, but still sharp somehow.

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues for:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettles wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

He glanced at the table before picking up the smallest bottle in one hand. Harry then turned towards the right end and picked up a rounded bottle. "Here," he said, "You two drink this and head upstairs. Find someone – preferably Snape." He took a deep breath. "I will be advancing. Try and hurry back will you?"

"Of course." Blaise answered, drinking a small amount of the potion and handing the flask to Draco. He stepped back through the flames.

"Harry?" Draco questioned, worry shining in his voice.

He graced him with a small smile again. "I'll be fin." Harry threw back his head and swallowed the potion, ice flowing through his veins, and stepped through the black flames, leaving Draco with no choice but to head backwards for help.

* * *

"Hello, Professor Quirrel. Fancy seeing you here."

It was just the same as his dream. Fire gleamed around the entire area, reflecting off the mirror and casting strange shadows on the ground.

"Mr. Potter – a pleasant surprise I assure you." He stepped around the mirror in the middle of the room. "If you could be silent while I examine this... wonderful artifact." Quirrel muttered to himself as he paced in front of it. "Trust Dumbledore to choose something like this..."

Harry made no sudden moves, worried his countenance may give up what he knew.

And then that same ragged voice from his dream issued – strangely – out of Quirrel's turban. "Use him... use the boy..."

"Potter!" Quirrel snapped. "Come here and tell me what you see."

_His reflection reached into his pocket and pulled out a blood red stone, a ragged voice demanded to be told what he saw…_

Harry's reflection nodded, as though it knew what he was thinking, and gave a little wink as something solid fell into his pocket.

"Well, boy? Speak up."

"I'm being congratulated by the Master of the Potions Guild." Harry stated. "I've created a cure to lycanthropy." He smirked for effect. "And I've just received an honorary Guild position."

Quirrel cursed.

"He lies... He lies..."

Quirrel rounded on Harry. "Tell me the truth, Potter!" He spat out.

"Let me speak to him..."

"Master..."

"Do as I command Quirrel." Quirrel turned around and began to unwind his turban. Harry toyed with the idea of shooting a curse at Quirrel's back – the poor idiot hadn't even thought to take his wand.

The turban dropped and Harry came face-to-face with possible the most terrible face he had ever seen. Red eyes peered out from above a snake's nose, chalk white skin stretching around features much too thin. "Hello, Harry Potter." It hissed.

"Hi."

The snake-man, whom Harry knew without a doubt was Voldemort, hissed angrily. _Perhaps I should not piss him off._

"See what I have become? A mere shadow with form only when I share another's body." Quirrel took a step towards Harry; Harry stepped farther away in response. "Fallen from glory. Forced to drink the blood of unicorn until I am able to gain the Elixir of Life. So why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

Harry surged back a couple of steps. He knew.

"Come, dear boy. Save yourself... join me or die begging for mercy... just as your parents did..."

"Never!" He cried, stepping back even farther as Quirrel advanced slowly on him.

"How touching..." Voldemort hissed, his face twisted into some sick look of what Harry supposed was 'admiration'. "I always value bravery... your parents were very brave... they died protecting you... your father first, then your mother… but not you..."

Harry stepped sideways, refusing to allow himself to be pinned against the wall.

"Enough!" The face suddenly screamed. "SEIZE HIM!" Quirrel sprang after Harry, Voldemort's cries echoing around the chamber.

Harry raised his hands in defense, pain searing across his scar as his hands made contact with Quirrel's flesh.

Quirrel cried out and abruptly let go, his skin blistering where Harry grabbed him.

"SEIZE HIM, YOU FOOL!"

Quirrel lunged for Harry again. The raven-haired boy stuck his hands out and caught Quirrel in the face, refusing to let go even as he felt the flesh heat beneath his hands and begin to crumble away into nothingness.

When the pain became unbearable, Harry relented, catching his breath and preparing to grab him again. Quirrel raised his hand to curse just as Harry leapt at him, throwing the weight of his entire body onto Quirrel, and forcing him to struggle without escape as his skin blistered. Voldemort's voice screamed "KILL HIM!" repeatedly over the terrible sounds of Quirrel's agony.

With a final cry, Quirrel disintegrated into nothingness, Voldemort's spirit rushing out of him.

In the background, as the world faded into blackness, Harry heard voices screaming his name.

* * *

Harry blinked rapidly at the white environment of Hogwart's infirmary.

"Good morning, Harry."

_Aggh... anyone but him._

"Good morning, Headmaster." The boy sat up in the bed, head throbbing.

The old man made a grand gesture at the tokens lying around the bed. "Tokens from your admirers."

"Wonderful."

Dumbledore frowned at Harry's response, but reckoned the boy was tired from his ordeal. "Harry, I wanted you to know you showed great bravery down in that chamber..."

"Oh goody." _Not a bloody Gryffindor... _He mentally sang.

Ignoring the boy's interjection, he continued, "The Stone has been destroyed."

"And the Flamels?" Harry asked, opening a chocolate frog.

"Oh... you do things quite thoroughly, don't you?" He sighed. "They will be fine – Nicolas agrees that the Stone was a marvel in an of itself, a wizarding wonder, but the temptation of immortal life or everlasting riches are too great for the world to handle. It is better off gone."

Harry nodded, munching on his chocolate frog. The doors opened admitting Snape, robes billowing as usual. Harry gave a slow smile.

Dumbledore stood up. "I'll be taking my leave then – don't scold him too much, Severus."

"Headmaster." Snape gave a slight incline of his head before turning to glare down at Harry.

The boy smiled sheepishly at him.

"Imagine my surprise when Draco and Blaise arrive at my quarters, in their night robes, sweating and covered in dirt." He began to pace by the side of Harry's bed. "And then, imagine my surprise when they tell me you've gone after the stone and are currently battling what you believe to be the Dark Lord." He gave Harry a look before continuing. "And then, imagine my surprise when I find you lying half-dead in your bathrobe with one of the most important magical artifacts known to mankind!"

"Sorry?" Harry gave a glance a Severus' form. "We're you worried?"

"Of course I was not worried!" The potions master snapped back.

Harry pouted before brightening up. "Thank you for saving my life and worrying about me anyways."

"I was not worried." The man grumbled.

Harry shrugged, finishing his chocolate frog and inspecting the card he received. A comfortable silence followed. "So... who will be the Defense teacher then."

"I will."

Internally, Harry danced. "That's wonderful."

"For you perhaps. I, however, will spend even more time trying to educate ungrateful brats. And then, I will be forced to grade said ungrateful brats' homework... for two classes."

"Well," Harry started. "Look at is this way, you have twice as many dreams to ruin."

The man smirked. "True."

* * *

Harry's first year ended without any other excitement. People walked on eggshells around him, which was perfect because Harry did not want to listen to their incessant chatter as it was. After a thorough scolding, Deimos refused to leave him, forcing Harry to carry him to all his classes.

Slytherin won the House Cup, thanks to Dumbledore's last minute points, and the hall was decorated in beautiful greens with silver.

Harry almost skipped to the train as the students piled out of Hogwart's doors. He had already breezed through his summer homework and was looking forward to a quiet summer of reading potions books.

As the train pulled out of the station, Harry settled down and enjoyed his train ride with Draco and Blaise, content to listen to their conversation.

He could not wait till next year.

* * *

A/N: I decided since it has been a year I really should try to AT LEAST finish Harry's first year. I do not know when I will next update this story. I will try, but who knows. Perhaps I will entertain myself by responding to all those who leave reviews. I would like to state those who left a review after I had not updated in a year are the people who guilted me into writing this. I should be studying for my physics test tomorrow - which I am about to right now - but I decided to finish this for you. Sorry ifthe ending is not vey descriptive - I was rushing. If I have time later.. perhaps I will change it unless you guys don't mind.

Review please. And until next time (whenever that may be)!

P.S. - some of the scenes have lines taken straight from the book or slightly modified... As I was saying.. I was rushing so I will probably come back and edit this later.. I'm not too happy with the end as it is... I was writing it and getting bored, so I'm certain you guys are like "Oh..come on.." So yeah.. just a note. XD

* * *


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven **

Harry rolled over onto his back, now waist-length hair spilling onto the nice, but still worn covers of his bed. The potions book he was reading, held aloft by slim, delicate hands, thumped down to his right as he rolled himself over again to perch precariously on his stomach at the edge of the mattress.

Summer had turned out the exactly the way he expected it would – quiet and filled with numerous opportunities in which he could read and memorize books for the upcoming school years. Years, because he had long since finished both the second and third year reading curriculums, courtesy of Draco's father's old school letters and books given to him at the end of the school year. Apparently, Hogwarts rarely changed its book lists. And when it did, it was only because some upstart teacher believed they knew best. Harry snorted.

_What is so amusing, Harry Master?_ Deimos uncoiled himself from Harry's parchment covered desk – all notes of course, for he had finished his homework prior to leaving Hogwarts – and slithered out of the warming patch of sunlight he had been basking in.

_Society in general. Adults, particularly. _Harry paused and reconsidered, stroking Deimos as he coiled beside Harry on the bed. _Well, just adults. And their ability to assume what they know is best._

_Even your Severus? _The snake hissed questioningly, tongue flickering across Harry's lingering fingers.

Harry rolled his eyes at Deimos' words and softly shut his potions book after placing a bookmark. _Not as much. He has seen enough that his 'words of wisdom' are actually, for lack of a better term, applicable._

Deimos hissed a noncommittal reply and closed his eyes, coils pressing into Harry's side. Harry gave a little sigh and looked at the snake out of the corner of his eye before nuzzling down into his pillow for a nap.

* * *

"Harry!"

Harry bolted upwards – gracefully – at the call, eliciting angry hisses from the snake at his side. "Yes, Aunt Petunia?" He called back, the last vestiges of sleep clearing rapidly as his body became alert.

He heard her footsteps on the stairs and watched as his bedroom door opened slightly and her head peeked through. With a wary glance at Deimos, she continued, "Come help me with dinner before Vernon and Dudley come back from the tailor." Her blond head disappeared as she retreated back to the kitchen.

Harry rose off the bed and padded over to his battered wardrobe, reaching inside for a worn t-shirt. Well, one more worn than the one he was currently wearing – if that was even possible. He had decided earlier in the summer that, while he doubted he would ever reach what he believed was a respectable height for a male, he could at least hope for a few more inches in the next couple of years. Therefore, he would wait until he was 15 or 16 to purchase an entirely new, proper wardrobe. Of course, he'd probably have to make allowances for a few small things here or there, lest Draco decide he needed a whole new wardrobe every Christmas.

Sighing, Harry shrugged off his other, somewhat nice shirt and gracefully slid the other on before heading out the room and down the stairs.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Aunt Petunia thrust a cloth and a can of wood polish in his face and shooed him over to the kitchen table. Already knowing his task, Harry set to polishing every groove of the delicately carved oak chairs.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Harry walked up the stairs after helping his aunt clean the dining room and prepare dinner for the business dinner his uncle was hosting.

Harry had not been invited.

Not that he minded, of course. He'd rather not waste hours of his time listening to adults chatter mindlessly over his head, knowing they all thought he wasn't competent enough to understand what was happening around him. It may be true of Dudley, but certainly not Harry.

If this had been Slytherin, however, Harry would have been sure to make his displeasure known about the lack of invitation. His dark green eyes narrowed.

Until such a thing happened – and Harry was almost certain it wouldn't – he would continue his perusal of _1000 Dangerous Ingredients & Where to Find Them_.

* * *

It was only his strong sense of self control which prevented Harry from jumping wildly at the whip-like crack of apparition. Instead, only his gaze and wand snapped to the location of the sound while the rest of his body showed no change in outward appearance even as it thrummed with tension.

"Who are you?" Harry questioned imperiously, even as his voice lilted lazily.

"I is Dobby, sir!"

Harry rolled the name over in his mind, testing it and wondering why it sounded familiar as he studied the house elf in front of him.

"Dobby?" He questioned. "You wouldn't happen to be Draco's, would you?" _He doesn't send me anything all summer and now this?_

"Master Harry..." _I like the sound of that_, "...is so very smart! Just as Master Draco is telling Dobby!"

"And why have you come here, Dobby?" Harry inquired politely, reminding himself that help can come from the most unusual places and the little people – literally, in this case – were always important when building an empire.

"Master Draco is sending Dobby here to warn Master Harry that Master Lord Malfoy is messing in Hogwart's matters. And that Master Draco is knowing Master Harry will not care much, but still should be being careful and must promise Dobby this." The golf-ball sized green eyes stared at him.

Harry waved his hand dismissively in the air, adjusting himself on the bed in order to get more comfortable.

"Is Master Harry not giving Dobby his promise?" The house elf played with one of his ears, and, when no contradictions came from Harry, the house elf headed towards the bedroom door. "Master Draco was telling Dobby that Master Harry was stubborn and might be needing encouragement!"

Dobby was out the door and down the stairs before Harry had bookmarked _1000 Dangerous Ingredients & Where to Find Them_ – because he simply refused to lose his spot because of a house elf that acted far too much like his owner – and rolled off the bed.

He crept down the stairs and, after seeing the hallway was vacant, snuck into the kitchen. From his new, crouched position, he could easily spot Dobby and make out the forms of the Dursley's guests.

Dobby spotted him and smiled maliciously – well, as malicious as house elves can – and pointed upward.

Floating above him was the pink, lavishly decorated cake that Aunt Petunia had made earlier that day.

Harry glanced down at Dobby and shook his head, eyes narrowing dangerously. The elf looked unsure for a moment before visibly firming and directing the cake towards the lounge.

"Will Master Harry Potter promise?" Dobby whispered.

Weighing his options carefully, Harry glanced at the cake, Dobby, his family and their guests, then back to Dobby.

"Okay, Dobby." Harry said, fingers crossing carefully behind his back, wand held in between. "I promise." No magic settled in the air, but Dobby was to apparently too happy to notice.

Dobby smiled widely at him and returned the cake to the counter gently. "Dobby will be leaving now, Master Harry Potter, sir. You must not be forgetting your promise!" The house elf whispered, and with a less than subtle crack, disappeared.

Harry gave a small smile, slipping his wand into his pocket, before noticing the quietness which had settled over the house. He glanced slowly over his shoulder to stare at the group in the lounge.

They were all staring back.

He coughed and straightened up, meeting Aunt Petunia's gaze. She widened her eyes and twitched her head a bit, mouth thinning, obviously asking him what in the world he was doing. Harry stared back, eyes slightly wide, conveying the less than eloquent 'gahhh' that all teenagers sometimes find to be the most appropriate response – though he would never admit it.

In that moment, Harry's eyes shifted behind his Aunt, focusing on the incoming owl framed in the window. _Crap_, he hissed under his breath.

Vernon sputtered, finally managing to find his voice. "What are you doing down here, Harry?" His voice was strained with politeness and he was turning somewhat red. Addressing the other couple, he stated, "This is my nephew, Harry. He's somewhat nervous around strangers."

Everyone's eyes followed Harry as he nonchalantly walked to the lounge window and leaned out to pull the glass doors shut. "We didn't want to upset him, so we kept him upstairs in his room." Vernon continued, his voice covering Harry's, "Other side, second floor, middle window. It's open; leave it there."

Harry adjusted the curtains so they covered the window completely just as the owl swerved to follow his directions, and turned to face his now silent uncle. "I felt it was getting cold, Uncle Vernon." He filled his voice with a childish innocence that would sound odd to anybody who knew him at Hogwarts. "I shut all the windows upstairs, but then I remembered we left this one open earlier. I hope I didn't interrupt." His wide, green eyes blinked towards the group.

"Oh." Vernon's eyes shifted to his guests. "Of course not, Harry. Why don't you run along upstairs to your room now?"

"Can't I have some of the cake that Aunt Petunia made, Uncle Vernon? You're serving it soon, aren't you?" Vernon's eyes flickered to his guests, who were now staring quite openly at Harry with a sort of odd fascination.

"Of– of course, you can." He looked to Petunia. "Why don't you cut him a piece, Pet? And send him off to bed."

"Of course, Vernon." She agreed, moving towards the kitchen immediately with Harry trailing behind her. She closed the French doors between the rooms, the voice of the lady guest stating, "He's quite beautiful you know... almost unearthly so…", before turning to whack Harry on his head, who dodged out of the way gracefully, smirking. He yelled mentally at the guest, _gorgeous, not beautiful!_

Harry then stared at his aunt. "Cake." He held out a plate he had somehow grabbed off the counter and made pointing motions with his fork at the pink confection.

Aunt Petunia stared back at him before sighing and slicing him a piece. "Go upstairs and read your books. Do not return downstairs, because I doubt you'll be able to weasel your way out of the next situation as easily. You uncle will be in a right state as it is." She pushed Harry into the hall. "Go."

Harry walked up the stairs, head tilted proudly, licking icing off the fork with obvious glee, because he knew no one was around to see it. He pranced into his room and settled onto the bed and fed Deimos a piece of the cake off his fork.

_Letter, Harry Master. _The snake's tail flicked at the mentioned message.

_Ah, yes, Deimos. Thank you. I nearly forgot._ He turned and picked up the letter, slicing it open quickly, using the fang offered by the open-mouthed snake, and slid out the parchment inside. _You make a remarkable letter opener._ Harry stated offhandedly to Deimos while he quickly skimmed the letter.

_I'll take that as a compliment, Harry Master._ Deimos was rewarded with a long stroke down his spine.

_No magic outside of school or else I'll be expelled._ Harry blinked and then shrugged. _You think they'd be intelligent enough to tell the difference between a house elf's magic and a wizard off my skill._

He took another bite of the cake, and ripped the letter into neat shreds. _Look, Deimos! I have new bookmarks._ Harry stated with giddy sarcasm. _Joy!_

He rolled onto the bed, pulled out his copy of _1000 Dangerous Ingredients & Where to Find Them_, and placed the new 'bookmarks' in the back. He then opened up the book and continued to read as though nothing had happened.

* * *

The trip to King's Cross was mostly silent, broken only by the sound of Dudley's handheld video game.

Deimos lay coiled securely in his carrying cage, albeit unhappily, resting on Harry's lap.

Vernon pulled into a parking space and turned off the car, hoisting himself out before tottering off to get a trolley. Harry opened the door and stepped outside, careful not to jostle Deimos' cage.

His uncle arrived back and together they unloaded the trunk and Harry's other belongings onto the cart. Vernon slammed the lid shut before turning to Harry.

"We'll pick you up here same time as last year," he started gruffly, "Stay out of trouble, you hear? I don't want any blasted letters from any blasted owls from that school of yours. Now get!"

Harry responded with a nod and met the eyes of Aunt Petunia in the car mirror. He turned around and started towards the entrance of Platform 9 3/4. Uncle Vernon started the car and pealed out of the parking space behind him.

With a quick glance around, Harry leaned on the dividing stone pillar that was Platform 9 3/4's entrance and frowned when it refused to give. Glancing at it curiously, he leaned against it casually again and shoved hard with his magic.

Something invisible broke, and he stumbled through the entrance – gracefully, of course – and onto the Platform.

He pushed his trolley towards the luggage pile and grabbed Deimos' cage before heading off to commandeer himself one of the finer compartments.

* * *

The door to Harry's compartment slid open and he was greeted by the familiar faces of Draco, his two 'bodyguards', Theodore, and Blaise.

He watched them lazily from beneath hooded eyes, one finger stroking over Deimos' head. "Hello, my friends." Harry greeted.

"Hi Harry!" Draco nearly bubbled through his own drawl. "How are you?"

Harry stared at him through narrowed green eyes. The train began to move. "You didn't write me this summer, Draco. I'm very disappointed."

"Yes I did!" Draco sputtered back, eyes widening. "I wrote you tons, but you never replied! That's why I sent Dobby along. He reached you didn't he?"

Harry nodded, stating somewhat ominously, "We will discuss that minor detail later." He glanced at the others. "And what of you? Did you all attempt correspondence with me only to find it impossible?"

The others nodded, Blaise declaring he had several ideas over the summer he was sure Harry would have wanted to know.

Harry's eyes traveled over the group, before settling on the scenery outside the window.

"Interesting. I wonder what else I missed."

* * *

A/N: So that's it. It's something at least. I have the year planned out.. I'm just lazy and need encouragement, I guess. I also have college applications and, sadly, those take precedent over Harry Potter fanfics.

Seventh book was pretty good; liked the ending mostly though not necessarily the epilogue. Slight spoiler sort of: Snape has always been my favorite character, and kudos to all who have continually supported his snarkiness.

Review and maybe I'll write some more. If you guys ever have a question or suggestion of where you think the story should go, PM or tell me to start a forum and I will (though this story isn't really good enough to warrant a forum). I enjoy discussion, it makes me think - A LOT - which means I add more ideas and can write easier. So it benefits y'all in the end.

Hope you enjoyed this pretty short, pathetic little chapter.


	13. Chapter Twelve Part I

Chapter Twelve

Harry glanced at the carriages in distaste, hissing soothing tones as Deimos curled closer in the cool autumn air. His emerald eyes traveled over the worn, wooden seats and the dirt covered wheels. _Let me guess – Dumbledore's keeping tradition alive again._

Harry gave a slight sniff before motioning Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle onto the rickety benches of the carriage. He followed pulling out his wand and conjuring a simple Slytherin green pillow with silver stitching to sit on. Another flick and a similarly styled handkerchief appeared. Harry shook it out and smoothed it on the bench beside him before perching Deimos' cage on it.

He looked up at a sudden gust of autumn air, and met the adorably – though he'd never admit it – pleading silver eyes of Draco.

"What?" He half-snapped. Draco blinked once. "Oh fine. Simply because I don't want to hear you blathering about it later." A quick swish of his wand and comfortable pillows identical to his own appeared beneath each of the other three Slytherins, though you could barely tell with Crabbe and Goyle.

_I must get them on some sort of diet. _Harry remarked quietly in his head as the carriage began to roll down the lane towards Hogwarts. _I don't know how Draco stands it, but I refuse to see that everyday for the rest of the school year._

When the quartet arrived at the school gates, Harry left the carriage, handing Deimos' cage off to Crabbe. He started towards the doors, commanding Draco to follow him when he attempted to retrieve the pillow Harry had conjured for him. Though he knew he'd regret it somehow, he promised to make another one at some point after he had settled in again.

After that, Draco happily walked beside him, with his two shadows trailing, and 'entertained' Harry with tales of his summer. Harry directed Crabbe to leave Deimos' cage in the entrance hall with the other Slytherins' luggage – he didn't trust the house elves to handle it carefully enough – all the while listening to Draco's somewhat welcome chatter with one ear.

However, as soon as they passed through the doors to the Great Hall, Draco's cool demeanor faded into place – he must have practiced over the summer, Harry noted absently – and they headed towards their table, one of the last groups to arrive.

As they settled into their seats, Harry glanced at the head table and sought out the eyes of his favorite professor. Instead of the usual, small smirk, Harry received an angry glare. He blinked confusedly and looked down at his plate momentarily before turning to Draco.

"Is Professor Snape glaring at me?"

Draco took a quick glance around Harry's slight form and replied unsurely, "I think so." With a somewhat more joking tone of voice he asked, "What'd you do to piss him off already?" He shook Pansy off with one arm – she had somehow weaseled between him and Goyle – and glanced at the head table one more time. His eyes found Harry's cold emerald gaze and he abruptly stopped snickering. "Never mind."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear it."

Harry gave a small sigh and waited impatiently for the sorting and Dumbledore's announcements to end. When the food finally appeared, he served himself a little of everything and began to quietly eat his meal all the while mulling over what he may have done to upset his head of house.

To others, Harry appeared perfectly normal – quiet and refined as he usually was, though perhaps a little weary from the trip. However, to Draco and some of his other year mates, Harry was almost too quiet and seemed a little depressed. Wisely, the others kept to themselves and left Harry to feed Deimos the rarer meat. Trying to cheer him up would only result in an angry Parselmouth and thus, a large, pissed off snake.

* * *

The next morning, everyone in the hall could obviously tell Harry was in a rotten mood. His normal complexion was a little pale and he had dark circles beneath his eyes, telling of a night with little to no sleep. Even his snake appeared surly and overtired, which meant everyone gave both a wide berth – excluding Draco of course.

Quiet for once, Draco was sitting cautiously beside Harry who was delicately buttering himself a piece of toast while Deimos was loading his plate with bacon and ham – the eggs weren't easily speared by his fangs so he left those to his owner.

As usual, Snape, and the other Heads of House, had begun passing out their students' schedules. The Slytherins waited quietly, consuming their meal slowly, until the professor came and greeted them.

Snape drew nearer, and Draco felt Harry tense beside him.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy." He nodded at the blonde and passed him his schedule.

Harry perked up in his seat, "Sir, I –" The piece of parchment was shoved in his face and Snape cut him off with a quiet greeting to Crabbe as he moved on.

Visibly deflating, Harry watched Deimos scarf down a piece of ham from his plate. He glanced at his schedule, noting he had Potions with the Gryffindors first followed by Defense against the Dark Arts, also with Gryffindors. _What a wonderful day_, he thought sarcastically.

Budging Draco from his seat, they headed off towards the Potions classroom, Draco quiet and following one step behind. Students slowly filed in behind them, several darting in the room the seconds before the bell rang and Snape swept into the room, pulling the door shut heavily.

"Summer assignments on the front desk." He waved his wand. "Directions are on the board. Whoever you are sitting with now will be your partner for the rest of the year." Snape sat behind his desk and pulled the stack of summer assignments towards him.

Half an hour into the lesson, Harry was glancing curiously at his potion and the next two ingredients. Deciding he wouldn't know unless he asked, Harry raised his hand and called out, "Professor, why do the tortoise shells –"

"Detention, Potter. For asking questions." He never even looked up from the papers he was grading.

The entire room froze, all the quiet chatter between partners ended abruptly, and even the hissing from the cauldrons diminished. Some of the Gryffindors were gaping – and some Slytherins too, though much less obviously – as they all stared at Snape. His behavior was so unusual – in regards to Slytherins –, and even unfair, that the entire class was unable to figure out what was wrong.

"Back to work!" Snape snapped into the silence, and the students hurried back to work, still contemplating the Potions professor's mood.

* * *

Draco walked beside Harry to Defense, glancing sideways at the impressively neutral face the twelve year old beside him had. Even Deimos, usually a great indicator of Harry's mood, was blank – if a snake could even have an expression anyways.

They moved into the classroom, sitting down exactly in the middle. From where they were, hundreds of portraits, of all different shapes and sizes – though sadly all of the same person –, smiled down at them, teeth sparkling impossibly.

Once the entire class had arrived and settled down, the office door burst open with a cry of "Good morning, everyone!" Framed in the doorway, not one hair out of place, stood Gilderoy Lockhart – a man that they would soon find out to be possibly one of the least intelligent beings to ever 'grace' the earth.

He continued out of the doorway, smiling at the swooning girls and waving to his portraits on the walls – all of which also waved back.

"I am Gilderoy Lockhart, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's _Most-Charming-Smile Award. I will teach you how to stop some of the most dangerous creatures known to wizard-kind." He flourished his cape and leant against the desk at the front of the class in a confident manner – if he hadn't missed the edge of the desk in the first place, Harry would have given him points for good showing. "I have slain werewolves terrorizing children, fought with crazed banshees, and defeated armies of trolls in only a day's work. See my published works for full details." He flashed his award winning smile and the girls sighed.

"Moving on!" He proclaimed, walking to his desk and grabbing a stack of papers. "I've created a little test – nothing to worry about – on my books. Just to see how much you've retained, what you've learned, etcetera." He began passing out the tests. "You will have 30 minutes to complete the test. You may all begin – _now!_"

Harry wrote his name at the top of the test before glancing down at the first few questions.

_1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

And so on and so forth over two sheets of paper. Harry glanced over it again, trying to understand the stupidity before him as Draco snorted at the questions on his right.

Deciding he'd really rather cut his losses, Harry stood up and burned the parchment with a very annoyed, "_Incendio_."

"Mr. Potter!" Lockhart exclaimed, flourishing over as the class watched the disturbance. "Is there something wrong?" He asked in a somewhat simpering tone.

Harry raised an eyebrow and stated clearly, "I should not have to waste my time with this rubbish. There are much more important things I would rather spend my time on." His voice became a little colder as he picked up his bag. "I'll be going now. When you have managed to become somewhat competent – though I seriously doubt the likelihood of that – I will return. Until then, good day." He gave a little nod towards Lockhart before heading towards the door.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter! Please return to your seat!" The professor started after Harry, one hand reaching out, but stopped when he almost lost said hand to a very large, very unhappy snake.

The door slammed shut and Lockhart stared at it in silence for a few moments. Finally he turned and gave a little clap of his hands. "Well! What an exciting start to a new year at Hogwarts!" He flashed a smile. "Back to your tests, please! You only have 25 minutes left!"

* * *

Outside, Harry gave an odd frustrated sigh of relief and exasperation. He still hadn't figured out why his favorite professor was being so cold. And now he even had a detention from said favorite professor!

He hissed soothing sounds at Deimos who was worrying incessantly about his 'Harry Master'.

Harry pushed himself off of the wall he had leant against and began walking slowly in the direction of the dungeons.

He hadn't read those idiotic books in the first place anyways.

* * *

Harry meandered down the dark dungeon hallway to the Slytherin common room to await the arrival of lunch. He paused as he passed the potion's classroom, ears perking to figure out if Severus was in. There was a rustle of clothes and Harry gave a small, hopeful smile before adjusting his robes and knocking on the door.

The room beyond descended further into silence, but there was no tell-tale swish of robes or firm click of boots on the floor.

Harry waited a moment longer and then scrunched his face up and grumbled for a second, mock kicking the door in aggravation – no one was around, and he was certainly entitled to throw a tantrum if he wished to, even if they were below him.

He turned from the door and continued down the hallway, settling into the quiet of the Slytherin common room with relative ease. Setting his bag down on the table by the fire, he pulled out his potion's homework and quill.

As the clock ticked slowly, Harry set to work, viciously lacing his entire essay with rude innuendo about his potion's professor.

Down the hall, the Potions Master glared into his cauldron as its contents sluggishly boiled away.

* * *

Lunch and afternoon classes passed in their annoyingly normal back-to-school way and Harry soon found himself seated at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, Draco loudly bubbling away on his right as Blaise perused a short novel to his left.

A sharp glare muted Draco, though the tense, bouncing motions continued.

Food appeared in front of Harry, along with a note written in a familiar, scrawling script.

_Harry Potter__ is required to attend detention with_

_Professor Severus Snape__ on the__ 6__th__ of __September__ at _

_6:00 pm__ in the __Potions Classroom__._

Draco leaned over his shoulder and scanned the note silently, before returning to his meal. When Harry sighed and shuffled a few bites into his mouth before turning his attention to Deimos, Draco sent an angry glare at his Head of House.

He was certain the next few days would be dreadfully silent and depressing. Draco had learned early on last year that unhappy Harry meant – or better mean – unhappy everyone.

* * *

Draco sighed wearily as he pushed his breakfast around on his plate. He had been right. Four days ago Harry had received notice of his detention and ever since that point in time the Slytherin common room had become a no conversation zone. In fact, students did not even bother working on their homework there; instead they found solace with the rest of the house at the tables in the far back right corner of the library.

In addition to the overwhelming silence, Harry had become snappy, moody, and had somehow reached a new level of negativity –** if** you managed to get him to talk.

He glanced at the boy beside him and stood up from the table, excusing himself as he set off towards the dungeons. When he passed through the doors and they swung firmly shut behind him, he yelled in frustration before straightening his tie and moving onward to his destination.

* * *

Back in the Great Hall, people ignored the frustrated noise as it filtered through the doors.

The entire school felt as though a great shadow had settled over it ever since news of Harry's detention found its way through the Hogwart's grapevine. Even the first years knew to keep quiet and keep their snuffling to a minimum.

Of course, some people just can't stay quiet for long.

As soon as Harry's blonde companion had left, Hogwart's most famous red-headed troublemakers had already loped over to Harry and planted themselves on either side of him as he played with his food.

Deimos hissed in warning.

Harry glanced at them through his bangs, his lips tightening as he resumed the artistic massacre of his breakfast.

The red head beside him, mostly likely Fred, planted an elbow on the table and clucked quietly, "Come now, Harry. That's no way to treat guests."

Harry viciously knocked the boy's elbow from the table, lips curling into the tiniest of smirks when Fred's forehead collided with the table. "It's impolite to rest your elbows on the dining table."

On his other side, George chuckled quietly, and touched Harry's shoulder to capture his attention.

The heavy emerald gaze flickered over and found his immediately. George froze and then relaxed, "If you're done slaughtering our humble school's most delicious cuisine..."

"Why don't you join us for a little chat?" Fred winked at him and added, "Cutie."

Harry stood abruptly and marched away from the table towards the doors.

"Oh! Look, Forge! He agrees!"

* * *

The twins cornered Harry as soon as he left the Great Hall.

"So," began George, "We've noticed that our dear Potions Master has been ignoring you as of late…" Harry glowered at him.

"Forge! What an impolite thing to say! The poor, adorable thing has practically had his heart harvested by Snape for a potion's experiment!"

If possible, Harry's glower worsened and he scowled mentally. He was certainly not a 'poor, adorable thing'! He was absolutely terrifying! The whole school refused to speak in his presence! And for good reason. He'd take their heads off if they so much as blinked at him wrong.

"Now he's sulking, Gred! He's moved from moping to sulking!"

Harry huffed. He most certainly had not been moping!

"My dear Forge! Sulking and moping are the same thing!"

"I'm sure there are technical differences, Gred."

Fred sighed dramatically. "It becomes more and more obvious as the years go on that I am both the better-looking and more intelligent of the two of us."

* * *

A/N: I've had this written since I posted Chapter 11... I finally just decided to give you the half or third that I'd written of Chapter 12 and be done with it (I have the entire thing planned out!!)... cause the story ends in a different place in my mind than yours, so I kept thinking it's fine to leave it there for now while I apply for college, do college visits, apply for scholarships, work my butt off in biology, study for AP tests, OCD over the yearbook, and attempt to finish all my calc homework because I put it off for some reason. You have no idea how much I would like to keep writing.. and I even have a totally new awesome plot bunny!!

Oh well... I'll try.. though that really doesn't mean much.. and I'll be taking college courses during the summer too... no rest...


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